


Tell Me It's Okay

by Melancholia7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ., Accepts Harry's friendship, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas comes along, Depression, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Fluff, Draco back at school, Draco gets better, Draco is alone at school again, Draco's like nah, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Harry and Hermione are like nuuu come with us, He eventually goes, He feels less down, He's like NAH, Kindness, Lucius is in Azkaban, M/M, Narcissa in hiding, POV Third Person, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Sad Draco Malfoy, Slow Build, Suicide Attempt, The Burrow, Then oOoOoO, Then there's a lot of fluff, They like yah, They're like YAH, draco is bullied, like really bad, self love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melancholia7/pseuds/Melancholia7
Summary: Draco Malfoy feels guilty for all he had done and tried to make amends during his last year at Hogwarts. As Christmas approaches and his last year comes to an end, he finds himself alone during Hogwarts once more. After his struggle for redemption, self-hatred and difficult apologies, he finds himself invited by Harry, Ron and Hermione to spend his last Christmas with them. At the Burrow.(This is a really bad summary but that's the overall gist of the main things that happens, slow build)EDIT: This work has been ABANDONED, sorry





	1. Writer's Note

 

 

This story will cover depression, self-loathing, bullying, possibly a suicide attempt.

You have been warned.

 

 

BUT!

It will also have a lot of fluff and warm, happy times when Draco gives in and goes to stay with the Weasley family! :D

 

 


	2. Happy Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco reads a letter his mother sent him after abruptly sending him to Hogwarts before disappearing herself.
> 
> Of course, this is after the war and Draco feels extremely bad for what he had done. (He's a little depressed) - There's a bit of crying
> 
> Pansy is there to comfort him, but he doesn't think he deserves it.
> 
> A small scuffle after dinner with a few Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors - but that sets the tone for the rest of the story towards Slytherins and Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is the first chapter, I thought I'd introduce the atmosphere before delving deep into the Harry and Draco friendship. So basically, this is the first term of the new school year, a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts. 
> 
> This will set the scene and provide you with some information that will be explained in the next few chapters
> 
> Good songs to listen to while reading:  
> Heal - Tom Odell  
> Stay Alive - José Gonzáles

_**\- Four days until school begins -** _

 

_My dearest Draco,_

_I understand you may be reluctant to continue your schooling at Hogwarts, and would much rather leave with me, but I assure you – it is safest for you to remain under the supervision of Professor McGonagall. Although your father may be in Azkaban and we are legally treated as victims of The Dark Lord’s influence – there are individuals out there who demand our heads._

_It is my understanding that Hogwarts has increased security around the borders, and are constructing safety rooms within the school grounds in case of a riot. I had put an inquiry regarding Durmstrang, but although they have increased security, I prefer you remain at Hogwarts._

_I have been in contact with the Parkinson’s and Zabini’s, but they refuse to respond. I don’t blame them. I do, however, have knowledge that both Pansy and Blaise will be continuing their schooling at Hogwarts – which eases my nerves to know that you will have friends._

_You may find my decision hurtful – but I have not abandoned you. Once you finish your schooling I will come for you._

_I promise._

_Love,_

_Mother_

 

-

 

Draco sat rigid as the world flew by, taunting him with pitying smiles and a trembling rage. He breathed in deeply, allowing the letter to slip from his grasp and flutter to the ground. He made no move to pick it up. Instead he closed his eyes, welcoming the grief that suffocated him. He felt weak, lethargic – like he had fallen into lake of tar; tugging, pulling, yanking him down into a chasm of silent darkness that threatened to spill.

He felt eyes on his person so he opened his own. Seated across from Professor McGonagall, Draco sniffled quietly, expecting her to reprimand him for his disastrous behavior during the war. It had been months since he had come in contact with anyone from school, much less see anyone he recognized. It was peculiar; she wasn’t angry, or pitying – rather, she appeared _understanding_. What was there to understand? He was a Death Eater. A monster. A murderer. He didn’t deserve her understanding, much less her kindness, so why? Why was she looking at him like that?

Unsure he could hold a conversation he lowered his eyes, staring at a mark on the edge of Professor McGonagall’s desk as he rested his arm on the armrest limply. He never wanted to be a part of it. He didn’t mean to _kill_ anyone. He just wanted to live. The whole time he had been so worried, so scared, but did nothing about it – even when Vincent died he did nothing. He just stood and watched.

Draco grit his teeth, wincing at his searing memories. Unknowingly he let out a strangled sob, which snapped him from his daze and brought him back to reality. His eyes were burning and his vision was foggy. He touched his face, unsurprised to feel a salty wetness across his cheeks. He was crying. Crying like a child.

So caught up in his own misery he hadn’t noticed Professor McGonagall had moved to stand beside him, jumping slightly as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Embarrassed, Draco buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled wail. He hadn’t cried in weeks and he wondered why he hadn’t done it sooner because it felt– _so good_. To just let it out, to release the emotions that churned within him. It was liberating.  

He sniffed unattractively, but he didn’t care. Gentle but strong hands soothed his back, patting him encouragingly to let out his tears and he obliged. Surprisingly he was done within a few minutes, but few minutes were intense. Spills of constant hot streams ran down his cheeks and choked sobs escaped his trembling body. He supposed he looked ridiculous, and was partly ashamed to allow McGonagall to see him like this, but when he glanced towards her, he was surprised but grateful to see her looking the other way.

Once Draco had calmed down, Professor McGonagall removed her hand and resumed her seat across from him. Draco composed himself, wiping away any excess tears or snot with a tissue she offered him. He settled himself and squared his shoulders, readying himself for proper conversation. He felt much better.

“Sorry.” He muttered, feeling self-conscious. The professor didn’t seem bothered and smiled knowingly. “Regarding your letter,” she held nodded towards his mother’s letter which rested on top of the table. The professor must have picked up whilst he was crying. “I am pleased to hear you will be remaining with us for your last year.” She sounded professionally detached, “however, I trust you understand that there will no leaving the school grounds alone under any circumstance. Your safety is just as important as any other student, and I plan on keeping you alive.”

Draco nodded.

McGonagall continued. “The official school year will begin in four days, which gives you enough time for you to settle into the dorm and contact any friends you may have,” she paused, “lost contact with over the past few months. I think one of your friends is already down there waiting for you, if you have any other problems please come to me. My office is open to you any time, you know the password.”

Draco nodded again.

“Aside from that, I must warn you to be careful when moving around the school. The construction of the safety rooms is being tested every now and then. They are rectangular slabs of stone in the floors and walls. The ones in the floors will be activated if you stomp on one, the ones in the wall will open up if you press against it firmly enough. We haven’t enchanted them with a password yet so they might be easy to open.” She informed him.

He frowned. “What If I get stuck in one of them?” he asked.

She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be possible. It’s designed to keep people from coming in, not from coming out. Once the safety rooms are secured, there will be a password to get in and a password to get out. As soon as the doors are sealed and locked with that particular password, no one can get in unless someone from the inside says a different password to open it from the inside. It’s little complicated, but it will all be explained in a week’s time when everyone has returned.”

He nodded, suddenly remembering someone was waiting in the Dungeons to see him. He looked at her and raised slightly off the seat, eager to get moving. Noticing his eagerness to leave, McGonagall gave him one last smile and bid him a gentle goodbye. He left her office, walking hurriedly towards the Dungeons, hoping it was who he thought it was.

Bursting dramatically through the double doors of the Slytherin common room, he scanned the room for his friend. The room was relatively barren, part from the usual army green couches and white marble coffee tables. The chandelier lights were on, reflecting against the green-stained windows and casting a stream of light across the room. He stepped down into the carpeted room and was confused to find no one there. Not that he expected an audience, he wondered where his supposed ‘friend’ had gone. Feeling a little dejected, he looked over towards where his luggage was perched in the corner and moved to collect it.

“Draco!” a shrill voice called. Suddenly, he was spun around and a smaller individual enveloped him in a warm hug. His nose was buried in jet-black hair and rough arms held him close. Pansy.

She swayed with him in her arms for a minute before releasing him. She stepped back, but held Draco’s hands in her own like he’d disappear if she didn’t. Instantly, Draco regretted not contacting her over the past few months as he eyed her relieved but worried face. She had always been by his side, and only then did he realise how unappreciated she was.

“Hey Pansy,” he whispered, giving her hands a little squeeze.

Pansy gave him a funny look before scoffing quietly. “Hey you.” She smirked, “That was just a hello hug. Don’t get all mushy now – I can tell you’ve been crying.” she said casually.

Extracting his hands from her grasp he touched his face reflexively. He shrugged, not bothering to deny it. She was observant like that, but Draco reckoned him crying was fairly obvious with his pale skin and blotched nose. He touched his eyes, which were a little red around the corners and he regretted rubbing them so furiously.

“Professor McGonagall contacted my family. Told them it would be easier to settle in if I arrived early – and now you turn up. I have a feeling she did this on purpose.” Pansy suggested as they carried his things to Draco’s sleeping quarters.

“Mischievous woman she is.” Draco commented. “But kind as well,” he added as an afterthought.

Pansy murmured in agreement. The two of them dumped his bags at the edge. Almost naturally, Pansy began helping Draco to unpack, extracting his robes out of the case and hanging them up neatly in his wardrobe. She had always done that – helped him unpack – but for some reason it felt… eerily normal.

“You don’t have to help. you know” Draco muttered.

“I know.” She answered simply.

The two Slytherins unpacked in a comfortable manner, chatting casually but steering clear of their most recent events. Pansy knew how to hold a conversation without making it awkward, and for that he respected her. She was awfully observant and in tune with his every movement and word. He reckoned she would make a great psychologist.

“Draco.” Pansy began abruptly.

He paused what he was doing and looked at her expectantly. Part of him knew what she was going to say, the other part didn’t want to believe it.

“My parents don’t want me hanging around you anymore.” She stated, trying to make it sound as normal as possible.

Draco sighed but nodded slowly.

Pansy’s eyes widened and she shook her head almost angrily. “But I won’t leave you Draco,” she said quickly. “I’m not going to ditch my best friend just because my parents want me to. They’re bastards, they don’t know what you’ve been through! And I don’t know either… but the Draco I know, may be a little snarky and hurtful at times, but he’s a good person. Whatever you’ve done, isn’t your fault. You never asked for any of this and I won’t abandon you because of it.” She declared rather loudly.

He continued to stare at her, unsure how to respond.

Apparently he didn’t need to because she wasn’t done talking. “I talked with Blaise, he thinks the same. We’re here for you, and if you want to talk about what happened – great, we’re all ears. But if you don’t, that’s fine. We understand if you don’t want to relive those memories. Just know, we’re not going anywhere!” Pansy told him roughly. 

Her eyes darted around the room as a moderately tense silence filled in between them. She was rough with her tone, but kind with her words – mainly because of her lack of experience when dealing with her own emotions. She was plenty calm when listening to others and giving advice, but Draco understood what she had said, she had meant – and it meant so much more to him because she wasn’t always in tune with her own feelings.

A lump caught in his throat. “Thank you.” He whispered.

She nodded quickly before taking a deep breath and resuming the task in front of her.

Although Draco was grateful for her words and extremely pleased by her loyalty, part of him felt guilty. He didn’t deserve her friendship, or her forgiveness. For the past few months, he had become so accustomed to strangers berating his family, calling them traitors and defiling his home, he had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone on his side other than his own mother. It felt good, but undeserving. 

He gripped the jumper in front of him tightly, shaking with a sudden, burning anger. He wasn’t angry at Pansy, he was angry with himself. Why had he sided with the wrong people? Why did he allow himself to be manipulated? To be used? Because he was weak. Weak and traitorous. He hated it almost as much as he hated himself.

Sensing Draco’s tense anger, Pansy put down the shirt she was folding and gave him a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. Draco didn’t hug back. He didn’t deserve a hug. He didn’t deserve anything. Instead, he pushed her away softly – not wanting to hurt her feelings – and turned away. 

“Thanks for helping me unpack, but you can go now.” His voice trembled.

Getting the hint, Pansy whispered a gentle, “okay, I’ll be in the common room if you need me,” and left him alone.

 

-

 

_**\- That evening -** _

 

The Great Hall was relatively quiet, only feeding twenty individuals at most, including a few professors. Seated in their usual spot at the Slytherin table, Draco and Pansy ate in silence, glancing nervously at a small group of Gryffindors who eyed them in a hostile manner.

As they about to leave, a voice piped up. “Hey Malfoy!” it called.

The two Slytherins turned towards the Gryffindors, who looked just as perplexed. Draco frowned, they hadn’t called his name. Then, two angry looking Hufflepuffs approached them and planted themselves in front of them with their arms folded across their chest. 

Pansy rested a hand at the small of Draco’s back in a tense manner. “What do you want?” she asked hastily, snaking her body between the two Hufflepuffs and Draco, almost pushing him behind her. Draco didn't recognise the two boys, and doubted Pansy knew them either, but he remained silent. 

Both Hufflepuff boys sneered at her, which surprised Pansy just as much as Draco. “Screw you Parkinson, sticking up for this Death Eater. He got our friends killed because they were, in _his_ words ‘ _mudbloods_ ’. Isn’t that right Malfoy?” One of the boys shot angrily, practically spitting as he said Draco’s name.

Draco said nothing and instead lowered his eyes in internal shame.

“That’s right, feel guilty. But no matter how bad you feel, they’re never coming back and it’s all your fault. Traitorous bastard, you should be sent to Azkaban just like your disgusting father!” The other Hufflepuff spat, stepping closer to Pansy and Draco.

“Piss off!” Pansy hissed, shoving the Hufflepuff away.

Draco stole a glance at the Gryffindors, who sat still and watched curiously. The two Hufflepuffs were younger than he and Pansy, but their anger was real and raw. Clenching his jaw, he placed a hand on Pansy’s shoulder and moved her aside. He loomed over the Hufflepuffs, so he bent his knees slightly but in a manner that didn’t make him appear to patronise them.

They glared at Draco, and Pansy watched him grimly.

“I’m sorry-” Draco began, but was instantly cut off by a sharp punch to the jaw that snapped his head sideways. Instantly, Pansy tackled the assaulter to the ground and elbowed him in the face. His friend went after Draco, kicking him furiously in the stomach and sending the Slytherin reeling backwards only to fall to the ground roughly.

Instantly, the observing Gryffindors got up from their seats and untangled the Draco and Pansy from the fuming Hufflepuffs, who shrugged off angrily and left the Great Hall in a hurry.

Pansy gripped onto Draco’s clothes and glanced up at his face worriedly. Draco, however, was unconcerned with his own personal discomfort and eyed the three Gryffindors. He recognized one of them, a chaser from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Demelza Robins, who stood in the middle with her arms crossed. Her steely gaze unhinged Draco, but he tried not to let it show.

Unsure whether or not to thank the Gryffindors, he glanced at Pansy before uttering a small, “I’m sorry.”

One of Demelza’s guy friends scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Sure whatever. We don’t entirely blame you – but I advise you eat elsewhere when school begins. Don’t expect a warm welcome, that goes for all of your Slytherin friends. After everything that's happened, I'm surprised you have the nerve to show up here, but whatever. I suppose you have nowhere else to go.” He huffed. The three Gryffindors turned away and resumed their seats at their table and continued their conversations like nothing had happened.

“Let’s go.” Pansy said quietly and tugged at Draco’s sleeve. 

The two left the hall, feeling slightly shaken, and made their way down to the dungeons.

“So much for Hufflepuff niceness.” Pansy scoffed, barking a half-hearted laugh as they reached the entrance. “I didn’t expect them to actually _punch_ you!” she looked at Draco worriedly, who shrugged her off as they made their way down the stairs.

It wasn’t that he wanted to be punched, but he knew he deserved. In a way. Suddenly disinterested in any more social behavior, he told Pansy goodnight and retreated to his bed, curling up in the sheets in a vain attempt to comfort himself. Everything was his fault. If only he wasn’t such a weakling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell Draco’s a little depressed and feel the hostility people feel towards Draco and his family. Even the Hufflepuffs are being impulsive and nasty, but it'll get a whole lot worse soon.


	3. Optimistic Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is back and you can feel the optimistic atmosphere as everyone is trying to make the most of their last year at Hogwarts.  
> Mentions a few flashbacks regarding Harry's experience.  
> Harry and Ginny broke up a while ago but are still friends.  
> Neville comes in with some interesting news and Ginny convinces Harry to do something stupid and pointless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may seem a little bit of a slow-build and you're probably begging me to hurry up and move onto Christmas when Draco goes to the Burrow... All in good time, my friends. After all, patience is virtue.

_**\- The day before school officially begins -** _

 

It was eerie being back at Hogwarts, but Harry Potter hadn’t much time to squawk at the repaired walls of the castle before he was greeted with an abundance of hi’s and hello’s from people he knew and didn’t. Most people thanked him, others nodded a grateful hello, while others gave their condolences for his loss – to which he responded more somberly than the other greetings.

He had had a quiet and peaceful time, mourning the deaths of his close friends and loved ones. He was reluctant to return to Hogwarts for his final year, but Hermione and Ron convinced him to anyway, claiming that Harry deserved at least one year of school that didn’t involve someone trying to kill him which, to be fair, sounded pretty reasonable. So he, and his two best friends, had returned to Hogwarts full of optimistic anticipation.

The trio sat down at their usual spot in the Gryffindor table, surrounded by chattering voices amongst softer whispers. There wasn’t as many students as the year before, considering the Fallen Fifty, and a few others were no longer accounted for. Harry wasn’t surprised when the mood dipped to an awful low as Professor McGonagall prayed with everyone for those who had died, even feeling slightly disheartened himself.

After a moment of silence, everyone returned their attentions to professor McGonagall, who stood strong behind the podium with her hands clasped together. She then began her speech.

“I trust you are all doing well. Grieving, yes. We are all hurting. We have all lost loved ones, but we have suffered through. For some of you, it is your last year at Hogwarts…” She paused and looked towards Harry. “So make it your best year. You have lived for a reason, so make that reason a good one. Do not dwell on the past, focus on your future. Live for those who have died! Live the life they would have wanted you to live!”

Cheers erupted throughout the great hall with students banging on the table and stomping their feet in unison. Harry clapped along with them, yelling in hope as everyone prayed for a good year.

Professor McGonagall continued once the cheers had died down. Her smile slightly faltered and everyone resumed their attention. “Some of you may blame others for losses that you experienced…” she paused, only to glance warily over towards the Slytherin table. “but know, that everyone in this room has suffered, and until you know the full story of what happened – you cannot judge. Focus on yourself and lifting others up. If you see someone in a dark place, encourage them, love them, support them…”

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table, which seemed pretty vacant. As he scanned, he spotted silvery-blond hair in the crowd and looked from the corner of his eye as he didn’t wish to draw attention. Draco Malfoy sat impassively, seated in the middle of Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. All three of them were almost huddled together, avoiding eye contact and making themselves small. He felt a twinge of guilt, but pushed it down promptly and returned to the sound of McGonagall’s voice.

“Regarding the safety rooms that have been installed while you were away, they are rectangular in shape and are now fully operational. They are not to be used as playground equipment and are only to be used in emergency cases. Similar to a panic room, these rooms have been enchanted to withstand falling debris, curses and spells. Inside is a portkey, which will transport you to the edge of Hogsmeade. To enter, a password is required. Once the door is closed and someone is inside, no one can open it from the outside. If the person inside the safe room wishes to open the door for his or herself, they will use a different password. These passwords will be discretely given to you at the end of dinner…”

Harry glanced around at the Gryffindor table, who listened to her eagerly. He spotted Neville, who gave him a wide smile before returning to McGonagall. Almost everyone he knew had returned, and he was suddenly grateful that Ron and Hermione convinced him to come back. He was eager to begin a new school year without battling Voldemort in his mind anymore.

“-and enjoy your year!” Professor McGonagall finished, smiling brightly as everyone applauded.

Food appeared on the tables, earning a happy gasp from those who missed the food. Harry served himself hungrily and watched as his friends did the same. He breathed in deeply, happily appreciating the company and earning a warm smile from his surrounding peers. He felt content, sad for those who had been left behind, but touched to know he was loved.

Cheery but reserved chatter filled the hall as everyone tucked into their dinner. As he looked around, Harry noticed that many people steered clear the topic of Voldemort and battle and he smiled thinly, pleased to hear that Voldemort hadn’t poisoned everyone’s conversations.

Every now and then Harry picked up a few individuals whispering angrily amongst each other, only smiling brightly when they noticed him watching. As he ate, listening observantly to the chatter, he picked up a name he knew and alerted his attention to the fellow who said it.

A boy, in the same house as he, grumbled amongst his friends, pointing and whispering in a hostile manner. “I wish they sent the entire Malfoy family to Azkaban, those traitorous bastards. I don’t understand why they let that prick come back to school after all he did!” he commented, talking in hushed but emotional tones.

Harry inhaled sharply, the memory of Malfoy’s face flashing before his eyes before disintegrating in front of him. It was a moment of his memory that embedded itself into his mind, refusing to be forgotten. Malfoy had saved him in his own way, refusing to acknowledge Harry’s individual when he, Ron and Hermione had been captured in the forest. Part of him still wondered why the Slytherin didn’t turn him in – but he supposed that under the nasty façade, Malfoy was a decent person deep down. And by deep down, he meant deep _deep_ down.

“I heard his mum didn’t want to deal with him anymore and abandoned him here like, five days ago.” A girl grinned. “I hear people want her head for her husband’s crimes – which, is stupid but reasonable. I bet she did some horrible things and her husband took the blame for her. I wouldn’t be surprised. That entire family is warped.” The girl scoffed, sounding obnoxiously happy.

Harry winced, willing himself to speak up. Narcissa Malfoy had saved his life as well, declaring his death to Voldemort despite knowing his capabilities and what he could do to her. Part of him admired her strong sense of mothership, remembering her words, “ _Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?”,_ and the other part couldn’t help but compare her words to his own mother. Regarding the circumstances in which Lily Potter, and Narcissa Malfoy, had been party to – he was sure that a mother’s love was unbelievably strong. Narcissa could have died if Voldemort had picked up on her lie, he could have dragged her aside and tortured her for her betrayal – and yet her only concern was for her child. Just like his own mother, who had died to protect him.

“I can’t believe Potter can stand to look at his face, he doesn’t even seem angry. I swear, if Malfoy goes anywhere near Potter, I’ll hex him into next week!” one of them said, glancing over at Harry, who stared at his food but listened quietly.

Glancing up from his plate, he snuck a peek at Malfoy – whose friends huddled around him speaking quietly and avoiding eye contact and eating slowly. Most of the Slytherin table spoke in hushed tones, but did their best to remain neutral or minutely cheery. Malfoy’s hair was oddly loose, with blond strands of hair falling in front of his face as if he were trying to hide it. It was no longer slicked back and bounced with liberating buoyancy as he lowered his head to eat. Malfoy was different. Of course he was, war changes everyone, but something was off. Aside from the Slytherin’s physical appearance of his hair, Malfoy’s entire aura had shifted. He was no longer brooding or confident. Rather, he appeared more sombre and uncertain, and very much lifeless. It was a sight to behold – not entirely unwelcome, but eerie and scary. Harry had never seen Malfoy look like that.

“He looks like shit, doesn’t he?” someone commented in the distance.

Harry didn’t particularly care who they were referring to, but he agreed nonetheless. Not that Malfoy looked ugly, or unattractive, he just looked like _shit_. Tired, exhausted, like he hadn’t the care in the world while still having a weight of the earth on his shoulders. Pansy Parkinson shook his arm softly, snapping Malfoy from a daze and Harry looked away, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Are you upset about Malfoy being at Hogwarts this year?” Hermione whispered, nudging his elbow. She had caught him.

“No.” Harry responded immediately, looking her in the eye to prove his sincerity.

She sighed. “Are you sure? We can request to not have him in any of our classes. I’m sure Professor McGonagall won’t mind. It might make it easier if you didn’t see his face all the time. I can ask her for you?” She offered quietly.

He shook his head. “No, really, it’s not that.” He gave her a small smile, not really wanting to delve into his problems just yet.

She took the hint and dropped the subject. “Okay,” she said, her voice chirping up as she spoke, “After dinner, why don’t the three of us play a game of Exploding Snap in the common room?” Hermione asked, giving Harry a warm look.

“Sure.”

 

-

_**\- Nine weeks later -** _

 

Seated by the fire, swathed in a fluffy blanket, Harry and Ginny cuddled. Oddly enough, she and Harry had broken up, realizing that although their relationship was going well, they both needed a source of stability that wasn’t a romantic relationship. Ginny had been the one to bring it up, explaining how she loved Harry – but just not in that way. Harry had agreed, acknowledging how he had misinterpreted his need for mental stability for romantic feelings. All in all, they addressed their differences and remained close friends, determined not to become the couple that ignored each other.

They didn’t exactly need the blanket, and it was getting too warm anyway, so the two kicked it off and rested beside each other like friends did, chattering about school and work and whatever else kicked around in their heads. Ginny was smart, perhaps not as book-smart like Hermione, but quick-witted and intelligent in her own way. Hermione was good with scenarios and thinking ahead, but Ginny preferred to stay in the moment, relishing every experience with a soft but straightforward view. Malfoy was book-smart too, especially at Potions and Arithmacy, and was certainly quick-witted in an argument. 

Gazing down at his friend, he noticed the small freckles that dotted just over her cheekbones. They were faint, but visible, and for some reason, it made her seem gentler. Like they were little kisses from the sun, marking her pale skin with spots of experience and giving her face a little more definition. She would almost be considered dark in comparison to Malfoy, who looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in months.  

Harry frowned, confused as to why his mind suddenly drifted to Malfoy, but shook his head and smiled back anyway. “Nothing. I was just thinking how this term has been pretty good despite Hermione nagging me to study every five seconds.” He chuckled. He didn’t mind Hermione’s nagging, she meant well, but all he wanted to do was relax and spend time with his friends. But Harry indulged her anyway, accompanying her to the library often to read and work in silence. Malfoy was usually there too, reading by the windowsill or staring out onto the Quidditch pitch. Harry wondered what the Slytherin thought about. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem happy.

Ginny smirked. “To be honest, your grades could do with a bit of improving, but just as long as you’re happy. It’s been good to have a term without someone trying to kill you all the time.” She commented, bumping her head against Harry’s shoulder affectionately.

He chuckled. “Oh yeah. My scar hasn’t hurt once, which is nice, and my dreams are no longer infiltrated by Voldemort. I mean, sometimes I get nightmares – but they’re more… Painful memories than a noseless freak trying to torture me in real time.” He responded, giving Ginny a small nudge back.

Ginny snorted at his description of Voldemort, but said nothing. The two of them stared into the fire, listening to the sound of the cackling embers and waving flames. It was nice, sitting with a friend while also knowing that the others would be there for him whenever he asked. People had been so kind to him that term, offering him small favours and even randomly thanking him in the hallways. Harry felt like it was a bit much – he didn’t deserve that much praise, especially not since the entire D.A had fought alongside him. He made it his mission to thank everyone back for their support and told them to be happy and kind to themselves.

“Alright Harry? Ginny.” Neville greeted them, plopping himself beside Ginny who sat in the middle of the couch. Neville looked tuckered out, sweating from exertion and breathing heavily as if he had been running.

“Alright.” Harry gave him a pleasant smile, tilting his head as he noticed Neville’s breathlessness. “You been jogging?” he queered.

Neville looked glanced at him, looking slightly embarrassed. “Um, no. I’ve actually been with Luna.” He muttered.

Both Ginny and Harry stared at him, before turning to each other in disbelief only to turn and look at Neville again. Unanimously like a mirror, the ex-lovers gave Neville a mischievous grin, causing Neville to blush in embarrassment.

“Oh shut up!” Neville groaned, waving his hand as if to push Harry and Ginny’s naughty thoughts away from himself. “That’s not what I’m here to talk about.” He rolled his eyes which gave a hint of confident deviousness.

Ever since the battle, Neville had gotten far more confident in his own abilities, finally coming to terms with what he was good at and accepting his talents. Luna had been a good morale-booster as well, lifting him up with encouragement as he became a role-model for the younger years. He even had his own group of fans, which had sparked and formed when the entire school witnessed him wield the sword of Godric Gryffindor at the battle. Harry could see it, and he had encouraged Neville to accept that he had fans.

“What are you here to talk about then?” Ginny asked him.

Neville glanced at Harry before speaking quietly. “Someone hexed Malfoy as he was walking down the stairs and now he’s in the hospital wing with a broken arm. I think it was a Ravenclaw, but they fled before anyone could find out who did it. But it’s not just that,” he paused. “Apparently Malfoy has been muttering ‘ _Potter_ ’ and ‘ _Apologize_ ’ in his sleep.”

Ginny frowned. “What, does Malfoy secretly want Harry to apologize to him or something?” she snorted. “I thought he was done with hating Harry, honestly.” She huffed.

The exhausted Gryffindor shrugged. “I dunno, that’s what I heard. Maybe Malfoy is still angry about something, but we don’t know what he’s going through right now. Who knows, he might be talking to himself when he’s muttering about apologizing.” Neville suggested.

“What, you think Malfoy wants to apologize to Harry?” she barked a laugh. “Fat chance.”

Neville shrugged again. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Silence settled in for a brief few seconds as the three thought to themselves. Neville didn’t particularly care, Ginny was skeptical but ran through the possibilities anyway, and Harry was confused. The fire that cackled in the hearth sounded for a brief period as an unplanned silence filled the common room. 

As people resumed their conversations, noticing the sudden drop in chatter, Ginny turned to look at Harry seriously. “Maybe you should go talk to him.”

“What?” Harry asked, suddenly forgetting what they had been talking about.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Malfoy. You should go talk to him.”

He looked at her blankly. “Why…?”

Ginny looked at him like he was dumb, but continued anyway. “Because he’s alone? I mean, surely, you’ve noticed him trying to get your attention for a while now. I didn’t realize it until just now, but I think he was trying to talk to you privately – which, to be fair, has been pretty hard considering you’ve hardly been alone at school.” Ginny reasoned.

Harry stared at her. She was making no sense.

“What.” He said slowly.

She scoffed. “Malfoy wants to talk to you privately. He’s alone right now. Maybe you should go to him?” she patronized him, speaking slowly as if he were a child.

Harry ignored her tone. “Why? If he wants to talk to me so bad, why can’t he just tell me to meet him alone?”

This time Neville scoffed.

“What?” Harry glared, feeling slightly offended.

“Are you daft? Everyone practically hates Malfoy, and I don’t know why but there’s this unspoken rule not to let him near you. I don’t know why, but someone started it and now it’s stuck – so I guess it’s been pretty hard for him to get your attention lately since you’re practically surrounded by people who hate Malfoy and love you.” She looked at him pointedly before continuing. “Maybe he wants to apologize, maybe he wants to duel – which, would be pretty stupid, even for him. But I know you’ve been watching him, and I have too. I don’t think he wants to hurt you, he’s been looking pretty down lately. I feel like he just wants to talk about what happened.”

“Why can’t he just talk to his friends about it though?” Harry rebutted, unknowingly feeling a little defensive.

“Because they weren’t there at the front. You and him have a history, maybe he just wants to make amends.” Ginny suggested. “I’m not saying I trust him because I don’t, and if he hurts you I’ll hex him down those stairs again myself, but at the same time I’m curious as to what he wants.” She admitted, giving Harry a look.

Harry stared at her blankly. “Are you telling me to talk to Malfoy _just_ because you’re curious as to what will happen?”

She shrugged. “Partly, but also because I’m curious as to why he saved you that time when you were captured in the forest, and I know you’re curious to ask as well. Why not kill two birds with one stone?”  

“You’re sounding like Hermione.” Harry groaned, but straightened up anyway. “Fine, I’ll talk to him. But I still don’t see why I should. Will you come with me in case he does want to hex me?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“This is a really dumb idea.”

“Yep.”

"What if he tries to kill me?"

"I'll be there."

"He's probably gonna tell me to piss off."

"Maybe."

"This is the most pointless thing I've ever done."

"Possibly."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof this chapter took me forever to complete. I had three different ideas as to how it would happen and I wrote three different drafts before settling on this one. Ahh, I'm so indecisive :/
> 
> -
> 
> EDIT: I WROTE THIS CHAPTER AT 1AM WHILE BUZZED ON CAFFEINE, as well as being a little sick - so this chapter might not make any sense. I don't really feel like going back and re-editing it because I had done that like three times already. Hehe


	4. A Fragile Teacup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief history of Draco's first experience being bullied  
> What happened when Draco was hexed down the stairs and broke his arm  
> He ends up in the hospital wing overnight for the bones to heal  
> Harry turns up to talk to him and they have a discussion and Draco almost cries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may seem pretty drawn-out, but I find it easier to establish the mental stability of each character to justify their actions rather than explain it after they've done something. Apologies if it's a little too tedious for your liking :P we'll get to the Burrow soon, I just need to build up the plot before delving in head-first.

_**\- Events leading up to Draco being hexed down the stairs -** _

 

Draco was used to pain; his father had taught him how to fade it away, teaching Draco to embrace the agony rather than fight it. What he wasn’t used to, was the sheer hatred that burned behind stranger’s eyes whenever he walked past. The looks, the sneers, the downright nasty treatment he received took a while to get used to. During his previous years before the battle, sure, he was generally _unliked_ as a person, but people still respected him. He no longer had anyone’s respect.

It wasn’t until two weeks in until someone hexed him publically, which was the keg for more jinxes and curses that was flung his way. Most of the time, Blaise and Pansy were with him, refusing to leave his side and he was grateful for their loyalty. But every now and then, a jinx would miss him and hit one of his friends, causing Draco to feel exceptionally guilty.

He was tripped multiple times, usually causing him to collide painfully against the stone floor while his friends yelled angrily at the assailant. Most of the times, neither Pansy or Blaise could tell who cast the spell and ended up yelling at random groups they assumed attacked Draco. He appreciated the sentiment, but he soon told them to stop defending him so blatantly. No matter how many times people stood up for him, there would always be someone who kept doing it anyway.

Sometimes he would be stung with a singing hex, which caused painful welts to wreck his arms and legs, leaving him to trudge reluctantly to the hospital wing and miss class. Madame Promfrey was kind enough to him, patching him up whenever he turned up unannounced and at random hours of the day. Soon trips to the hospital wing became a regular occurrence even McGonagall became concerned and offered to say a few words at dinner, but Draco refused. He didn’t want any more attention than he was already getting and she respected that.

Every now and then someone would steal his things, but most of the time people kept their hands off his stuff. Whenever someone did steal his notebook or hide his textbook, he never reacted and simply shared with Pansy or Blaise. Blaise reckoned people got bored of stealing his things after they got no response, eventually giving up.

Once, in the middle of dinner, someone slipped extremely strong muggle alcohol in Draco’s cup, topped with an amplifying spell, causing him to feel horribly tipsy and dizzy. As a result, the poor Slytherin ended up laughing hysterically while attempting to climb up onto the table only to be forcibly restrained by Blaise, who had to pin Draco to the ground. Eventually, the drunk blond ended up sobbing in Blaise’s arms, refusing to move or speak to anyone. When the potion had worn off, Draco was left confused, humiliated and feeling extremely upset.

After that incident, Draco refused to eat in the great hall, skeptical of everything he ate and limiting his food intake. This caused the paranoid blond to lose an increasingly alarming amount of weight, which was brought to the attention of Madame Promfrey, who ended up having to force Draco to eat.

It wasn’t until Draco got stuck in a safety room that he stopped feeling. Well, he panicked for about an hour before resigning himself to his fate and sat on the floor until someone opened the door. He wasn’t sure how they did it, or why no one noticed he was trapped, but by the end he didn’t even care. He had always been okay with confined spaces, only as long as he knew he could get out. McGonagall had placed portkeys in each of the safety rooms, but no matter how hard Draco tried, the portkey wouldn’t transport him out. He was stuck. Perhaps whoever trapped him felt bad, or maybe people were looking for him, but when the doors opened there was a simple swish of a robes and then the person was gone. Hidden behind their anonymous mask.

He got used to verbal insults and chides, paying no heed to anyone who battered him around verbally or physically, but he knew that they were far from done. Part of Draco was insulted that he would allow himself to be bullied by younger peers, but the other part of him thought that he deserved it. Part of him wanted to be hurt, hurt by others so he didn’t hurt himself. He could be battered, he could be bruised – by anyone than himself. He thought; that if others were willing to hurt him then it would be okay. Because if he became the one to inflict his own pain… He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to stop.

Sometimes the promise of pain soothed him, comforted him like a mother hushing her child. The pain gripped him to reality, hooking and tying him to the ground to force him to see. The hurt was his anchor. Far better than the silent agony of the numbness Draco felt inside.

Despite constantly feeling down, he managed to maintain a solid relationship with Pansy and Blaise, occasionally speaking to Millicent and a younger year who went by the name, Rachel. Greg refused to speak to him, caught up in his own loss of Vincent, he blamed Draco for his death and steered clear of the ex-death eater. Every now and then Greg would stand up for the bullied blond, shoving nasty Gryffindors aside in an angry huff, but never allowed Draco to get close enough to thank him.

Not because Draco felt like he owed Potter, or because everyone hated him and loved ‘ _perfect Harry’_ , he felt like he needed to thank him nonetheless. What he didn’t want, however, was Potter to feel _sorry_ for him. He’d punch the chosen one in the _fucking_ _mouth_ if he looked at him pitifully. But he doubted he’d ever get close enough to talk to the famous Gryffindor.

For a while the Slytherin had tried to get close enough to talk to the messy-haired hero, but he was never alone. He always had friends flocking around him like he was a celebrity. Well – he was a celebrity in a sense, but the amount of attention Potter received from his friends, even those he didn’t know, was immeasurable. Not that Draco was jealous or anything, it just pissed him off because _how on earth is he going to thank him if he can’t get five minutes alone with that bloody Gryffindor?_

Oddly enough it was only Potter who got his emotions flaring, sparking either irritation or some strange, warm feeling that cuddled his chest and soothed his cheeks with a pink flush. It was strange, and he didn’t understand it. Maybe the reason why he couldn’t get Potter out of his head, was because he felt obligated to pay him back? 

All he knew, was that he really needed to talk to Potter. 

 

-

_**\- The day of the staircase incident -** _

This time it wasn’t Draco who was being bullied, but one of his few Slytherin friends. Rachel. Normally he wouldn’t have intervened, but that time he was angry. Angry that it wasn’t only him who was being hurt – that it was individuals who didn’t deserve it. Innocent girls who had befriended up because she was kinder than others, and it pissed him off. Pissed him off that anyone, even a Hufflepuff, could be so careless and nasty.

“Why do you hang around Malfoy anyway? Do you feel sorry for him? Perhaps you fancy him? Anyone who would fancy Malfoy is definitely mad. Are you mad? Are you insane? Just like your mommy and daddy before Malfoy got them killed? He killed them you know, he doesn't deserve your friendship. Or maybe he does, you're probably crazy after all.” A Gryffindor sixth-year taunted her, shoving her into a wall.

Rachel was fairly small despite being in her fifth-year, but she stood her ground well. “Draco didn’t kill them, Voldemort did! My parents were never mad! Draco isn’t mad! _I’m_ not mad! The only one whose mad here, is you!” she shouted angrily, shoving the boy back. 

The Hufflepuff beside the Gryffindor glared at her, drawing his wand as she drew hers. Before Blaise could steer Draco away from the obvious fight, the fuming blond was stomping his way over with his own wand drawn. “Piss off!” Draco shouted, flinging a stinging hex at the Hufflepuff before he could challenge Rachel.

It missed, but it warned the sniveling boy to back off. Instead of dueling the nasty attention-seekers, Draco grabbed Rachel by the arm and dragged her away from the conflict, casting a scathing glare towards the boys, who smirked back at him.

It wasn’t until Draco was walking behind Pansy did they get back at him, casting a leg binding spell as Draco made his way down the stairs. Surprise, surprise, the Slytherin fell, tumbling down the concrete slabs and landing roughly on his arm, his legs twisting over his body, only to ungracefully collide against the floor. Pansy had shouted in shock, cast a hex at his assailant and rushed to the blond’s side, cradling his head in her arms as he groaned weakly. His legs were still bound by the curse and she undid it, unsure whether or not to touch Draco as he trembled in a mixture of shock and pain.

Draco moved his hands towards his face and felt a twinge in his arm. Groaning he looked down and suddenly the pain settled in. His arm was twisted wrongly, blossoming from an uncomfortable ache to a full-blown searing hot pain. That’s when he yelled in frustration as well as agony, engulfing the splintering pain with waves of mindless shouts and curses as Pansy tried to drag him up onto his feet. It was hot, it was painful, and it sent needles of messages to his mind that registered one word: FUCK.

It fucking hurt. Pain was normally good, but this time it simply pissed Draco off. _This time_ he didn’t deserve it and he forced himself to stand on shaky legs. Pansy brought him to the infirmary, bursting through the doors loudly to alert Madame Promfrey of their arrival.

“What have those godforsaken kids done to you this time?” Promfrey huffed angrily as she spotted Draco’s mangled arm.

She clicked her tongue in disapproval and left to retrieve a vial of clear liquid while Draco shifted into a more comfortable position. He had claimed the bed by the window in a small nook of the hospital wing and Pansy sat beside him worriedly. Fizzles of pain sparked around his brain and the raven-haired Slytherin tried to distract him with her words. He appreciated the thought, but the anger and pain mixed together and churned within him, making focusing impossible. 

Madame Promfrey returned with the vial, gave it to Draco who drank it immediately. Instantly, the pain begun to dull and he gasped in relief as his brain stopped fizzing and his arm ceased twinging. Pansy stood aside as the concerned nurse inspected his arm closely before drawing her wand and pointing to the injury. “Brackium emendo!” she chanted.

Thank god for the pain relief or else Draco would’ve screamed. Instead, a small yelp escaped the blond’s lips as his bones moved under his skin and reassembled themselves. Rather than sizzling cramps, it was considerably uncomfortable, but he was grateful for the treatment nonetheless. Giving Madame Promfrey a brief smile, he focused his attention elsewhere as his bones shifted and mended under his skin.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay here overnight. After Professor Lockhart’s failed spell in the previous years, I’d feel better if you remained in safe quarters before school tomorrow. As well as that, your arm will be in considerable pain or discomfort as the muscles realign themselves and your bones mend. Ms Parkinson can stay in the next bed across if you’d like.” Madame Promfrey offered, giving Pansy a short smile.

Draco stared at her. “Overnight? But I’m f-“ he began.

“No.” Promfrey said sternly. “You will stay here so I can make sure your bones heal correctly. We don’t want your arm to heal the wrong way around now do we?” she asked, giving Draco a firm look.

He nodded and Pansy gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You don’t have to stay with me, I’ll be fine here on my own.” Draco told her.

She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Really, you don’t have to stay.”

Pansy gave Draco a guilty look. “Are you sure?”

He smiled. “It’s fine, really. You don’t have to stay with me all the time. No one’s going to attack me here, not with Madame Promfrey around, you don’t have to worry. Don’t be such a Hufflepuff, I thought you were made of tougher stuff Pans.” Draco said jokingly, giving her a quick grin. “Seriously, go hang out with Blaise, he’s probably wondering where we are.”

“Oh, I sent Rachel to tell Blaise, but I suppose you’re right. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” she stood up and touched his shoulder lightly. Pansy gave Madame Promfrey a nod of thanks and left, leaving Draco in bed.

It wasn’t that Draco wanted to be left alone, rather, he felt guilty for always being the subject of his friend’s mind. He knew he had lost his snarkiness, his chatter, and most of all, his humour, but that infected both Blaise and Pansy as well. They no longer joked as much as they used to, no nasty gossiping or making fun of anyone. Ever since Draco stopped caring what happened to him, Blaise and Pansy had treated him like he was a fragile teacup. They thought, that if they dropped him he would shatter into a million pieces, never to come together again. He wondered if that were true.

He knew his presence wasn’t particularly cheery and that he gave off a very depressed vibe, so sending Pansy away was probably a good idea. That way, she could enjoy some time alone without him souring the mood. He felt like vinegar, and she was the milk, and his presence alone would cause them to curdle.  

 

-

 

It wasn’t until that evening, after his dinner had been served in bed, did he realize how alone he actually was. It wasn’t a mood of self-pity, rather, it was a statement that sparked no real emotion within him. He was alone. Cool. He was okay with that, it didn’t really bother him – but travel back a few years, he wouldn’t be caught dead without any friends. Not that he didn’t consider Blaise and Pansy friends, they were his best friends – but he felt like he was dragging them down. He felt like he was that friend who held the others back because of his own mistakes and faults, and he hated that.

Draco wasn’t surprised when he heard the doors open to the hospital wing. He didn’t move, assuming it was Pansy, checking up on him since he was the only one staying overnight in the infirmary. But something was wrong. They weren’t her footsteps, and she hadn’t called his name yet. It was someone else.

Perhaps a little too harshly, the confused Slytherin flung open the curtains, one leg hanging off the bed ready to bolt. His heart raced as the cloth moved aside and he momentarily wondered if someone had come to attack him again. His eyes settled on a brown-haired boy by the door way whose head turned to face him abruptly, startled by the moving curtain. Green eyes pierced his and his heart gave an irregular flutter of dread and relief. _Potter_.

“What are you doing here?” Draco whispered, surprising himself with his quiet voice. He cleared his throat and repeated the question.

The awkward Gryffindor shrugged and made his way down the stairs slowly. Draco frowned, Potter looked strange, nervous, like he had no idea what he was doing. He smirked, _Potter looks like a vestigial virgin about to get her cherry popped, nervous much?_ Draco thought, chuckling to himself before pausing internally. He hadn’t make a snide joke like that in ages.

“Come to make fun of me did you Potter?” Draco sneered, immediately returning to his defensive and slightly hostile mannerism. 

Potter looked at him and rolled his eyes. “I can if that’s what gets you off, Malfoy.” The Gryffindor rebutted, but there was no power behind those words, no _UMPH_. The messy-haired boy came to sit by Draco’s side, perching himself on the same chair Pansy had used before looking around the room.

The confused Slytherin tilted his head and gave Potter an impassive look. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I don’t know really. To talk? We haven’t spoken since the war.” The Gryffindor said.

Draco could feel Potter’s gaze on his lips and he frowned, looking away in discomfort. “Really? What is there to talk about?” he asked, being a difficult little bitch because that’s all he knew how to be in the presence of the Chosen One.

A pause, a sharp inhale. “Why didn’t you tell Bellatrix it was me?”

He stilled, a little taken aback by the bluntness of the question, but he recovered quickly. Casting a look of disapproval at Potter, Draco folded his arms in front of him. “Why would I? I’m not that horrible.”

“No, you’re not.” Harry confirmed, giving Draco a quick nod. “But we were on opposite sides. You knew it was me, and yet you didn’t turn me in even though you were a death eater. Not that I don’t appreciate it, really, you saved my life – but I don’t understand why you would risk it.”

Draco turned to look at the Gryffindor, who stared back at him with wide eyes. “Does there have to be a reason?” he sneered.

Green eyes stared back at him impassively. “So… You just, saved my life because you felt like it? Because you were bored? Because you wanted to see what would happen if I survived? No. Someone like you always has a reason for doing something, so what was it?”

Draco stared at Harry, suddenly so aware it frightened him. Why had he done it? Because he had never wanted Voldemort to win in the first place. But he couldn’t tell Potter that, he wouldn’t believe him. “Why do you want to know so bad?” he asked Harry, giving the Gryffindor a pointed look, directing the flow of the conversation the other way.

Potter gave him a twitch of a smirk and ignored the question. “Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

The Slytherin shuffled on the mattress. “You won’t believe me.” He said numbly, drawing out as little emotion as possible as he uttered those words. He wanted to tell Harry, he wanted to explain he had never meant for any of it to happen, but part of him reeled back from the truth and forced him to close himself off.

“I will.” The messy-haired Gryffindor told Draco, his emerald eyes softening slightly. It wasn’t a look of pity however, it was more… acceptance and the concept of being ready for a declaration of internal thoughts. Thoughts of which, Draco was positively reluctant to spill. What if Potter didn’t believe him? What if he laughed at him and ended up telling all his friends, claiming that Draco was making things up because he was desperate? He didn’t want that. Not at all.

Noticing Draco’s reluctance, Harry reached out slowly and tapped the Slytherin’s leg. It wasn’t a firm touch, just a light pressure to symbolize connection, understand, the fact that he was willing to listen. Draco shoved the Gryffindor’s hand off and scoffed. “I’m not telling you Potter. Can’t you go bother someone else?”

Potter’s green eyes stopped shining and Draco noticed a small slump of the shoulders. Potter was disappointed in him. The irritated Gryffindor stood up, looking down at the Slytherin, who was still perched on the edge of his bed and turned to leave.

Draco watched Harry walk away, eyeballing his back as the annoyed individual passed several beds and neared the steps. The further away Potter got, the more he longed to speak. Potter had been there the entire time, he had been the one forced into Voldemort’s mess whether he liked it or not. He would understand. He had to.

“Wait.” Draco barked urgently. His voice sounded slightly pleadingly, and he regretted the tiny slip up of emotion, but he decided it would be easier to come clean and thank Potter, rather than avoid the topic. He had, after all, been trying to thank the bloody celebrity for nine weeks, why not get it over and done with.

Potter stopped and glanced back. Draco stared back at him, one leg hanging off the bed and an arm raised a few inches from the bed. It looked like he was about to race after Potter, but had stopped himself. The Gryffindor walked back to Draco, but didn’t sit down. Instead, he waited.

“I just-“ Draco inhaled sharply. “I… Thank you. Okay? Thank you. I um, I never actually wanted Voldemort to win. I never wanted a part of this but my dad-“ he stopped abruptly, glancing up at Harry, who watched him with an emotionless face. “I didn’t know how to say no.” he finished, cringing at himself – he was horrible with words.

The Gryffindor resumed his seat and looked at the blond warmly. “It’s okay, I believe you. I know how it feels – to be thrown into something you want no part of.”

Draco looked at Harry, and gave him a tight-lipped smile, feeling unwelcomingly vulnerable. Potter understood. He hadn’t wanted any of this either, but he had fought it anyway. Only, Draco had fought on the wrong side and now he had lost. It wasn’t his fault, it was his father’s fault, his family’s fault. Why did he have to be a Malfoy? He had always been so proud of his name, proud of his pure-blood status, but now he just felt dirty. Dirty and unclean. He hated himself.

He attempted at a laugh, but it came out as a hiccup and he looked down embarrassed. He clenched his jaw and shook his head, breathing in deeply. He felt like he was going to cry. Oh my god, he was going to  _cry_ in front of Harry Potter oh my _fucking_ god.

“Hey.” Harry’s voice soothed gently.

Swallowing his emotions, Draco managed a grin and he looked away from Potter. “Go hang out with your friends Potter.” He uttered almost urgently.

A moment passed before he sensed the Gryffindor stand up. He didn’t look when a sad smile was cast his way. He didn’t look when Harry turned away to leave. He didn’t even look when the doors closed to the infirmary and he was left alone. He couldn’t. Not with the stinging tears that filled his eyes, blurring his vision as they threatened to spill.

Perhaps he was a teacup after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you spot the Hannibal reference? ;)
> 
>  
> 
> (Ginny was standing outside the door listening the whole time - since it was from Draco's perspective, it wasn't mentioned since he didn't know)


	5. Snapshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has come back from school and it is in the middle of term two  
> He goes to the library to study with Hermione early and she's not there yet  
> His spot is taken so he goes and sits somewhere else and spots Draco sitting by himself looking FINE AF  
> Being normal and logical, Harry decides to snap a picture of Draco with a poLAROID CAMERA AND FORGETS THAT THEY MAKE NOISES WHEN THEY PRINT OUT THE PICTURE BC HARRY IS AN ADORABLE DOOFUS  
> Draco notices and is like ?? bro ??  
> So on and so fourth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a weird chapter oml I have no idea what I'm doing (this is a super short chapter sorry)

**_\- Time leap to the middle of term two -_ **

 

Easter break had been rather enjoyable for Harry, laid-back but fun nonetheless. While Ginny and Hermione went out on picnics, he and Ron mucked around upstairs, going through boxes and boxes of photographs. It wasn’t necessarily _fun_ , but it was _funny_ when Harry found embarrassing photos of everyone.

He had gotten closer to everyone, not that he wasn’t already; but rather than having a close but respectful relationship, it was more of a non-sexual, intimate connection with everyone. A family. Not that he didn’t feel a part of the family beforehand, but this time it felt it was because Harry was Harry, and not because he was the Chosen One or because Voldemort was trying to kill him.  

On occasion, he and Ginny would fly around on their brooms, stealing Ron’s hat whenever he passed below them. It was all fun and games, and it was liberating to finally have a holiday without having to worry about Death Eaters or Voldemort or Draco Malfoy.

Speaking of Draco Malfoy, that particular blond boy had occupied Harry’s mind ever since they had spoken before Easter break. They were back at school now, however it felt like Harry had seen less and less of the snarky Slytherin. Not because Harry particularly liked Malfoy, or because he was worried about his wellbeing, he had begun to notice the sullen blond had lost a significant amount of weight. Not that he cared really, he was just observing.

The first two weeks back at school, Harry had begun to notice how absent the Slytherin was in comparison to previous years. He no longer ate at the great hall, hardly ever spoke to anyone, and had stopped playing Quidditch. Well, stopping Quidditch was a given, but the blond had actually gone and given away his prized broom! It made Harry uneasy.

Harry made his way to the library to study with Hermione, which was a scheduled event every Saturday after lunch. He was thirty minutes early but figured he could get started on his homework without her, not that he wanted to show Hermione he wasn’t completely helpless without her. The library had a gentle hum to it and was a very relaxing place when it wasn’t exam time. When it was, the atmosphere was tense and strained, which stressed Hermione out more than soothe her nerves. Harry liked the library though, with all its nooks and cranny’s where people could hide away and read to themselves. It was almost like a maze, the bookshelves being the walls. But the only thing you could actually get lost in, was the books themselves.

He nodded hello to a few peers who sat on the floor reading, and moved to his and Hermione’s usual spot. There was someone already there. The Gryffindor didn’t mind though, instead he decided to move past the chairs and tables and took a spot at the end of the bookshelves so that he could have a good view of the entrance for when Hermione arrived. He settled in, shuffled his books to the side and opened his Potions homework.

He almost didn’t notice the feathery blond hair peeking out from his peripheral vision. Glancing to the right was Draco Malfoy, perched on a windowsill with a book resting on bent knees. The blond wasn’t reading though. Malfoy’s gaze was transfixed with the swaying trees and lush green grass of the grounds below. The sun was fairly harsh, casting deep rays of sunlight upon Malfoy’s body, illuminating his face and giving his white-blond hair a golden gleam to it. Harry could see the steady rise and fall of the Slytherin’s chest and the sad grey eyes that glinted in the sunlight and wondered for a moment why he ever hated him. Malfoy gave a deep sigh before turning his head to face Harry, almost as if he could sense someone was watching him. Harry tensed as their eyes locked, but instead of sneering, Malfoy gave a small, taut smile before returning to his book. Perhaps he had never hated him.

Harry’s eyes widened. He had a camera in his bag, and no, not one of those bulky cameras Rita Skeeter used for professional shoots, a muggle camera that Ginny and he had enchanted not too long ago. It was a pocket-sized polaroid camera he had bought ages ago, and Ginny had taken it upon herself to bewitch it even though she wasn’t supposed to.

Moving slowly, Harry reached into his bag and brought out the camera, careful not to make a noise. He fiddled with the buttons before glancing around. The few people who he could see were wrapped up in their own work. Raising the camera to his face, Harry peeked through the hole and captured the blond. Immediately the camera snapped the photo and whirred rather loudly. Harry jerked the camera away as the Slytherin turned at the noise. He had forgotten about the noise. Dammit.

He glanced up at the others in the library, but they hadn’t noticed. The photo began printing out from the side of the camera and Harry snatched it up before anyone could see. The film was still developing, and he moved to shove the camera back in his bag.

“Did you just take a photograph of me?”

Harry froze. A second passed before he turned his head to look at the Slytherin, who stared back at him with an eyebrow raised.

“No?” he tried.

Malfoy gave a quiet chuckle before swinging his legs off the ledge and planting them firmly on the ground. Harry watched as the Slytherin approached and he unknowingly shrunk back in his chair, clutching the photo in his hand. The film was almost completely developed and Harry gulped.

“Let me see.” The Slytherin ordered softly and held out his hand expectantly.

Harry pursed his lips and reluctantly placed the photograph into Malfoy’s palm. Normally he would have made a snarky comment about the blond being demanding and overdramatic, but he had just taken a photograph of Malfoy so the Slytherin did deserve to see it. Draco’s eyes widened when he saw the photograph, a hint of a smile playing across his features before settling into a neutral expression.

It was a moving picture, bewitched by Ginny, and had captured a gentle, and slightly vulnerable looking Draco. Harry stared at Malfoy’s unreadable expression and glanced around the library, unsure of what to do or what to say. Was he angry? Was he upset? Harry couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked-“ Harry began apologising.

“I like it.”

It was almost inaudible, but at the same time it was clear as anything, and Harry’s world stood still. The blond lowered the picture onto the table and gave the Gryffindor a small smile. His eyes conveying nothing but interest and amusement. So, he wasn’t angry?

“Um.” Harry gurgled, staring at the grey-eyed boy in a combination of shock and confusion.

“Can I have it?” Draco’s mouth moved. 

Without thinking Harry nodded, his brain suddenly overloaded with confusion and a mixture awe. It felt like a dream, he doubted he’d ever see Malfoy smile at him so… Well… Nicely. It was strange. And on top of that he wasn’t being hexed into oblivion for taking his picture without asking permission first. Oh my god his brain was broken. What on earth was wrong with him? No – what on earth was wrong with _Malfoy_?

The Slytherin drew out his wand, pointed it at the picture and whispered, “ _Geminio_.” The photograph wobbled a bit before duplicating and Malfoy pocketed the duplicate as well as his wand.

Harry stared at his photo and then back up at Malfoy, who smirked down at him. “Why’d you duplicate it?” he whispered.

The blond shrugged. “You took the photograph for a reason, it wouldn’t be very nice for me to take your only copy. Don’t be such a sap Potter, I didn’t do it because I care about you, I did it because I have manners.” Malfoy turned away before Harry could respond, walked away and reclaimed his place by the windowsill.

If he hadn’t been watching, Harry would’ve missed the light blush that crept upon Malfoy’s cheeks before the Slytherin turned his face away.

 

-

 

It was fifteen more minutes until Hermione showed up, and during that time Harry had gone to the bathroom twice, rummaged through his bag three times and walked around the library once. He didn’t know what to do with himself. And through all that, Draco _freaking_ Malfoy sat there with his perfectly combed hair and read his book. Not that Harry expected Malfoy to be as ruffled as he, but he expected the Slytherin to at least look at the picture again or give a sign of _EMOTION_. But _noo_ , the blond git decided to sit like nothing had happened. Not that anything did happen, Malfoy was just being weirdly nice today. That’s all. But Harry couldn’t stop replaying the same goddamn scene in his head over and over and it was almost annoying.

“Alright Harry?” Hermione greeted as she slid into the seat next to him.

“I honestly don’t know Hermione. I honestly don’t know.” Harry sighed.

She gave the jittery Gryffindor a look of concern, but when he didn’t explain she shrugged and began working herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell this story is turning into super duper lowkey almost-fluff. I don't like it. BRING ON THE ANGST - haha just kidding, I'm just writing whatever comes to mind don't mind me.


	6. Walking Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's POV in the library  
> Mid-semester break begins and Draco falls into a deep pit of loneliness/self-hate/depression and Luna comes to cheer him up  
> They have a talk about stuff and Draco feels a little better  
> Draco thinks about Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a filler chapter sorry

Draco had retreated to the library in hopes for some peace a quiet, as well as to give Blaise and Pansy some time alone. He felt safer in the library than anywhere else in the school. Mainly because people went to the library to _study_ rather than to bicker and fight. This meant that the blond regularly made his way to the library whenever he had a spare chance. Not that he minded. 

Every Saturday he would see Potter and Granger come up to study, but they never noticed him. Figures. He didn’t particularly want to be noticed, hence why he had perched himself in the far corner by the window ledge. He liked the view, it was calming, and he didn’t feel the pressure to be _doing something_ which was nice.

He enjoyed being alone, it gave him time to think, but every now and then Luna Lovegood would have a chat with him. Not that he cared, it was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t Blaise or Pansy. At first, he was surprised that the carefree Ravenclaw would try talk to him, but he appreciated the company. Not that he ever told her or anything. He wasn’t sappy.

Oddly enough he found Luna to be easy to talk to, and after a few weeks of meeting up in the library they were on a first-name basis. She was a sympathetic listener, and eventually Draco opened up to her about his worries that everyone would hate him for the rest of his life. That’s when she had given him some valuable advice:

“People want someone to blame, and that person just happens to be you. Don’t mistake their anger towards Voldemort as hatred towards you. They may blame you, fight you, bully you – but they don’t hate you. They may think they do, but they don’t. They hate what you did, yes, but why should judge without knowing why you did it? Don’t worry Draco. They’ll get over it soon.”

Heeding her advice, Draco tried to see others as victims of Voldemort’s influence rather than bullies who hated him. That changed a lot of things. He even tried to be nice. He relaxed his features whenever he walked around the school, hoping to achieve a neutral look rather than scowling everywhere he went. Gradually people began to notice the change and kind of inched further away from him. The angry jibes and curses began to decrease, and he was no longer showing up at the hospital wing once a day.  

Part of him wanted Potter to notice him, but the other part wanted him to shy away from the boy forever. He had said his thank you’s, but not his sorry’s. Normally he would have just walked up to the Gryffindor and said what he wanted to say, but for some reason he found himself ignoring and avoiding him. It was a very cowardly thing to do, he knew that, but Draco couldn’t bring himself to talk to Potter.

It wasn’t until the library incident that Draco had spoken to him. He had noticed the Gryffindor walk in the library but became even more aware of his presence when he realized _Potter’s not sitting in his normal seat_. He willed himself not to look but he glanced anyway. Eye contact. Oh my _god._ He didn’t know what to do, it was half a second and Draco gave a small smile. It was taut, he knew that, but it was better than giving the Gryffindor a cheery smile and making him mistake it as an invitation for a conversation. _Oh god_.

Potter grinned back but didn’t press on for a conversation. The blond then turned his head and looked out the window, gazing down at the swaying trees and the garden down below. The sun moved out from behind the clouds and felt the warm rays of sunlight shine upon his face. It was a comforting warmth, a little too harsh for his liking, but it was nice nonetheless. He hadn’t been outside much and had given up on Quidditch. He wasn’t interested in playing anymore. Actually, he wasn’t interested in hardly anything. All he did with his time was think, read, study or sleep.

He had been staring out the window for a few minutes when he heard a click and a whizz from Potter’s direction. Alarmed, he turned to face the Gryffindor, who fumbled with a contraption and looked around nervously. No one else had noticed, but Draco had. He frowned, it was a camera. A muggle camera. A piece of film began printing and he internally scoffed. Potter had taken his bloody photograph.

Normally he would be offended that anyone would dare take his photograph without permission, but nothing but amusement bubbled within. Actually, he was rather pleased by that discovery. Potter had noticed him. Not that taking photos of people randomly wasn’t creepy, it certainly was, but as the Gryffindor fumbled around in panic, Draco’s heart uwu’d [I don’t know how else to describe it sorry].

“Did you just take my photograph?” Draco asked Potter, amusement threading through his words.

Potter stilled. It was adorable. The small card was visible in the Gryffindor’s hand and Draco gasped. It was a nice shot. He stood up and walked over to where the brunet sat, ignoring the small “No?” Potter had uttered in response. Liar.

As Draco held the photograph in his hand, his heart began to pick up pace. It was him alright, but the way the light bounced off the glass and the way his face was illuminated by the harsh rays, it made him look… _soft._ He didn’t look like himself, well, physically he did, but the expression he wore in the photograph was so unlike him he almost denied it himself. No way.

He quite liked it, Potter had a good eye, but he would never tell him that. He wasn’t a sappy Hufflepuff. Oddly enough, he felt compelled to pocket the picture. He wanted it. He almost said, “You took a photo of _me_ without _my_ permission, so I’m taking it.” But then he thought about it. Potter probably took the photograph for a reason, not that he cared what it was, but he figured if he wanted people to stop disliking him, it would be a good idea to become civil with their savior. So instead of snapping at the tense Gryffindor, he asked if he could have it.

Potter said yes, of course he did, and instead of taking the only photograph, he duplicated it because he, Draco Malfoy, wasn’t a nasty bitch like everyone else thought. He wasn’t exactly proving to Potter that he could be nice, he was more… Proving to himself that being considerate wasn’t a sign of weakness. Not that he cared if anyone saw him to be weak or anything. No. He was doing it for himself. Yeah. Himself.

After that, the Gryffindor had become quite jittery and Draco smirked as he resumed his seat by the windowsill. As Potter shuffled around in his seat and got up and down to walk and not to walk, the blond resumed reading his book and glancing outside. Well, he tried to read his book but the photograph in his robes burned a hole against his legs. He wanted to look at it again, he wanted to touch it. Despite making Draco look like a softie, part of him wished everyone would see him like that. It would make his life much easier, as well as finally being seen as a person, not an ex-death-eater.

When Potter left the library, probably to take a piss, Draco snatched the photograph out of his pocket and practically burned the picture in his mind. Was this how Potter saw him? He rolled his eyes at himself. It was dumb, why would he want _Potter_ to see him like that? It was bloody embarrassing. Then why… did he feel proud?

 

-

**_\- Nearing the beginning of mid-semester break -_ **

 

Seated in the Slytherin common room, Draco sat on the far couch in the company of Blaise, Pansy and Rachel.

“You can always come to my place, Draco?” Rachel offered.

Mid-semester break was approaching quickly, and the blond knew that he would have to spend another holiday at Hogwarts. He hadn’t heard from mother in ages, but he wasn’t going to risk revealing her location by sending a letter. He longed for contact with the outside world, but part of him knew he wouldn’t be welcome. It had only been seven months since the war, and Draco didn’t wish to risk it.

He shook his head and gave a small smile. “No, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want to impose. After all, I think I’m safer here, no offence.”

Rachel smiled at him but nodded understandably. Pansy and Blaise’s parents refused to have anything to do with the Malfoy family, much less invite Draco into their home. He didn’t really blame them. Last holidays he felt really dejected and abandoned when his friends left him all alone, but this time he didn’t particularly mind. He had become accustomed to being lonely, it wasn’t an unusual feeling.

In fact, he thought it was good to have some separate time from his school friends, who he was constantly around. The four of them hardly argued anymore, mainly because Draco had stopped caring about things so much, but also because Pansy and Blaise were cautious around him. It was slightly insulting to be treated like a bomb about to blow up, but he didn’t really care anymore. He just didn’t want to be seen as a nuisance and reckoned that being apart during the holidays would be beneficial for their friendship.

“I’ve tried talking to my parents, but they won’t budge! They’re being such bastards honestly. They’re always like, ‘But the newspapers might find out’, but who cares about the sodding newspapers? Who cares? Ugh, I hate them so much, I’m sorry Draco.” Pansy huffed, scowling at nothing in particular.

Blaise rested a sympathetic hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Same here. My mum doesn’t want to draw any attention to us, I’m sorry.”

Draco didn’t feel anything. It was strange, not feeling, but whenever his moods began to decrease or he stopped responding like a normal person would, he would take out his photograph to remind himself who he was. The blond had looked at the photo so much that if he closed his eyes, he could see it clear as glass. He was Draco Malfoy, a good person. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

Giving them a simple shrug, he stood up and retreated to his bedroom. Lying gingerly on his bed, he curled up slightly and hugged his pillow, his eyes dry. Why couldn’t he feel anything? He stared at the corner of his dresser and sighed. Instead of dwelling on his misfortunes he simply lay there, a vacant vessel with not a thing going on in his mind.

He didn’t think. He didn’t speak. And before he knew it time had flown, and everyone had left for their holidays.

 

-

 

Days went on and he stayed in his bedroom. He couldn’t even be bothered to go to the library. There were a few Slytherins staying back, but they steered clear from him. Rachel had offered to stay with him, but he declined, said that he wanted to be alone and she respected that. He wondered why Rachel hadn’t been put in Hufflepuff.

It wasn’t until a week of lying in bed, did a few house-elves come to see if he was alright. They served him some sandwiches and asked if he needed anything, to which he said no. From then on, he was served breakfast in bed, but didn’t have the willpower to actually eat anything. He wasn’t hungry and his appetite had declined even further than when school was in session. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave bed other than to urinate and shower.

Perhaps he was sick? Maybe he was dying? Either way he didn’t really care. It was all strange to him and everything felt like a dream. His mind was hazy and some days he couldn’t even move from bed. Once, Professor McGonagall was called into his room because a random Slytherin was worried for his wellbeing. Hah, funny. McGonagall then proceeded to ask if he needed anything, any counselling, someone to talk to, but he wouldn’t speak. She then called Madame Promfrey to do a physical checkup to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself. He hadn’t.

“I can call one of your friends back if you’d like? If you want me to contact anyone, please say so. It’s very hard for me to see you like this Mr Malfoy, especially when your mother entrusted you with me.” McGonagall had said.

Draco had refused, urgently forcing the professor to promise him that she wouldn’t contact any of his friends. She had reluctantly agreed. He didn’t want to drag his only friends out of their holiday to look after him. He wasn’t a baby, he just wanted to be alone. Why couldn’t anyone see that? Why did people have to keep pestering him? Asking if he was okay? It was infuriating, but Draco didn’t have the energy to even roll his eyes.

It wasn’t until a few days later when a Slytherin boy knocked on the door and peeked his head into the dorm. Draco looked down and sat up slowly. His head was spinning. Maybe he was dehydrated.

“Yes?” He croaked.

The boy stared at him with worried eyes, but then settled into a neutral expression quickly. “Luna Lovegood is asking for you. She’s just outside – are you okay?” the boy asked abruptly.

Draco shrugged and slid off the bed. He wrapped a green cloak around his shoulders and moved past the Slytherin, who eyed the blond with a confused and slightly concerned expression. A miniscule flare of irritation sparked within Draco. He didn’t like being pitied. There was nothing wrong with him, he just felt a little down, that’s all. Ugh.

He walked down the stairs and into the common room, earning a few glances from his Slytherin members. They looked at him, surprised to see him downstairs, and promptly returned to whatever they were doing. He walked towards the doors and frowned. Why was Luna at Hogwarts? Had she been here this entire time?

Opening the doors, he stepped out into the corridor to see Luna standing by herself in a light blue dress.

“Alright Luna?” he greeted her as he approached.

She smiled at him. “Shall we go for a walk?” she suggested.

Draco felt really weak and his legs felt like jelly, but he nodded anyway. The two of them walked through the halls, down the stairs, and out into the courtyard where the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. It was a warm but breezy day and Draco breathed in deeply. It had been a while since he had gone outside properly. He had opened the windows in his dorm, but it wasn’t the same as actually being outside.

“Nice, isn’t it?” she giggled.

He smiled and nodded. “Why aren’t you at home?” Draco asked her as they walked past the water fountain.

She didn’t look at him, instead she walked ahead of him with a small skip in her step. “No reason, I just decided I’d stay here this holiday with Cho, she’s been having a few problems at home and I thought I’d keep her some company.” She paused and looked at Draco. “If you had told me you were still here, I would have come earlier.”

Draco shrugged. “I can’t exactly leave, now can I?” he said scowling. 

Luna cocked her head. “I didn’t know where you were. I haven’t seen you anywhere around the school, and you haven’t come down to the hall once – well, not while I’ve been there. We could have gone out together, all three of us.”

The blond scoffed. “Chang doesn’t exactly like me. She thinks I’m a nasty murderer incapable of feelings.”

“That’s not true.” Luna said simply.

Draco looked at her. “What isn’t true? That I’m a nasty murderer incapable of feelings, or that she believes it?” He almost sneered.

The Ravenclaw looked at him sadly. “You’re not a nasty murderer incapable of feelings, and Cho doesn’t believe it either. Yes, she might be a little scared of you, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you. You’ve got too many Wrackspurts buzzing around in your head. Be more positive about yourself Draco, you’re better than you think.”

Draco was tired. He didn’t want to talk anymore. Instead, he shrugged and the two walked in silence around the school grounds, just on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Neither Draco or Luna minded walking in silence, they were comfortable in each other’s company despite being an odd pair to be hanging out together.

Gradually, Draco began to enjoy her company – especially her honesty. Luna was a kind person, maybe a little up in the clouds, but she was a good friend who had the right amount of patience to deal with his self-pity and self-loathing sessions. Luna thought Draco was good company as well, despite being extremely depressing at times. The blond was quick-witted when he was defensive, a little prone to anger, but usually had good intentions. She thought him brave and knew of is hidden intelligence. She reckoned Draco was afraid to let go of the past, and she could understand that. Only, she didn’t know how to let go of the past herself – so she could only offer advice on how to cope.

Every now and then, the two of them would go out walking – Luna eager to get Draco out of his miserable dorm room, and Draco happy to be in the company of a friend. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they wouldn’t. Strangely, the blond found deep interest in Luna’s mind which was full of fantasy creatures and stories of animals. He would listen to her talk about Nargles and Wrackspurts and Snorkacks and Blibbering Humdingers and all kinds of magical creatures she could throw at him. It was nice, to be talking about someone other than himself.

Despite spending so much time with Luna, Draco couldn’t help drift to the thought of Harry Potter. He still stared at the photograph almost every day, but the more he looked at it the more he wondered how Harry saw him. The Gryffindor had been nice to him for a while now, a little awkward, but relatively kind. There had been no jibes or taunts – probably from the fact that Draco mocked him first – but it was a welcoming change. But he still felt bad.

He couldn’t let go of his past no matter how hard he tried, and every time he saw Potter’s face, it was always a mixture of fury and hate and he couldn’t bear it. Despite it being as far from the truth as possible, Draco couldn’t help but think that Harry Potter hated him. He wondered about the ‘what if’s’ constantly. What if Potter was just being nice to him because he pitied him? What if he was only being civil to make himself look even more like a hero? What if Harry was trying to get in his head and drive him insane? What if…

Draco knew he was being dumb. Overthinking things. He couldn’t help it because there might be a chance his fears were real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes if I want to bring two characters together (Harry and Draco) I need to start small first. If Draco becomes friends with Harry's friends before shooting for the goal, I feel like their friendship wouldn't be as pushed. 
> 
> Also, poor Draco - such a depressed little nugget. I love him I'm sorry I just love writing about self-hatred


	7. Apology Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco apologises in front of EVERYONE  
> Ron and Hermione is like ???? and Harry's like !!!!  
> *Hug*  
> Draco leaves, they follow, and then a talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know what I'm getting at in this Chapter... I really wanted to make it so Draco confesses and shit and they have a heart to heart but then I kept writing and writing and I dunno, I kind of got lost in my own head and wrote this chapter lmaO

_**\- Beginning of term three -** _

Harry had not expected it. Neither had anyone from Gryffindor, much Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. In fact, not even Pansy or Blaise expected it. No one did. And it was the most spontaneous thing to ever happen in the history of Hogwarts. 

Draco Malfoy had apologised. To _everyone_.

 

-

 

It was their third day back and Harry, Ron and Hermione had settled into their usual routine. Everyone was cheery, happy to have no disturbances for the past two terms and were determined to make their third term the best.

They sat at the great hall for dinner, chomping away at their food while chattering about Quidditch and schoolwork and whatever else. Harry had been in the middle of a conversation when the great halls opened. No one really paid attention, but as a pale, blond-haired individual from Slytherin stepped foot into the great hall, all conversations came to an awkward still.

Harry stopped and swivelled his head around to face whoever it was. Draco Malfoy. He looked ghastly thin, almost frail, and his hair wasn’t brushed. It wasn’t necessarily messy, but it did give him a more humane look. Harry frowned, the Slytherin hadn’t eaten dinner in the great hall for ages – and by the looks of it he hadn’t been getting much nutrition either. The concerned Gryffindor frowned at the sight of the tired-looking Malfoy and he wondered if it was his fault.

“I just want to say…” The blond began boldly, his voice sounding slightly raspy as if he had just woken up. “That I’m sorry for everything I have done. I should have said it long ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit what an evil twat I had been.”

“Sounds about right!” someone shouted before being shushed by one of his friends.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who raised her eyebrows. She glanced over at the professors, who stared at Malfoy with a look of surprise.

“I know what I did was wrong – I know that I betrayed all of your trust and was an insufferable prat even before, and I’m sorry. I never wanted this to happen. I…” He paused, glanced over at Luna, who nodded back encouragingly. “I know I was a death eater and I regret not saying no when asked to become one. You see, Voldemort lived in my house, tormenting every room and I couldn’t escape. I knew that if I left, he would kill me – and I know it’s a cowardly thing to do, but I was afraid. I joined him because I was afraid of what he would do to me, to my family and I’m sorry that I let all of you down.” Malfoy uttered, breathing in deeply. 

A moment of silence filled the hall before Harry abruptly stood up. He didn’t know why he stood up, but he felt like he needed to. Everyone’s eyes turned to look at Harry, slightly fearful. They stared at him, worried he would be angry, so Harry moved away from the table and walked down the aisle towards Malfoy.

The blond took a step back as Harry approached, so he gave the blond a small smile before reaching him. They stood, three feet apart, facing each other like they had so many times before. They weren’t rivals anymore, so what was the point? He outstretched his hand, just as Malfoy had done in their first meeting, and looked the Slytherin in the eye.

A small gasp and murmur echoed from the audience and Malfoy stared right back into those emerald eyes. The blond breathed in deeply and gripped Harry’s hand and shook. It was a firm handshake, but full of mutual respect rather than distaste for one another. Harry saw the blond breathe in deeply and felt the slight tremble of his fingers. It must’ve taken a lot of courage to say what he had said.

Malfoy gulped, glanced around the room, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself. Harry noticed this, gave the boy a wide grin before enveloping the blond with a warm hug. Everyone was stunned for a moment, perplexed by the confusing and emotional scene that unravelled before them. Then someone began clapping, and then another, and another and soon everyone was on their feet applauding the two boys as they mended their past with a simple hug.

The two boys parted, and Harry looked at the blushing Slytherin, grinning wildly. “I guess you are as sappy as a Hufflepuff.” He joked quietly as everyone around them applauded.

Malfoy rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “So are you, giving me a bloody hug in front of _everyone_.”

“You know you loved it.” Harry smirked.

The blond shrugged and looked at the boy’s shoes. “Well, maybe I did.”

Harry raised his eyebrows but gave a hearty chuckle as the Slytherin turned to leave. Harry wanted to ask where he was going, but he wondered if it was a step too far. He knew Malfoy didn’t particularly relish in the presence of everyone in the great hall, despite having confessed and apologised, so he let it go. For now.

The blond left the hall and by then everyone had resumed their seats and chatted loudly amongst each other. Harry returned to his spot at the table and sat down, earning a few looks from his friends.

“Well then…” Seamus said, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

“Good on you Harry!” Hermione smiled, giving him a nod of approval.

“Why’d you think he did it?” Ron queered, addressing Harry.

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. To be fair, I never expected him to do it – but I guess he felt bad.”

“Not only that,” Hermione began. “It takes a lot of courage to speak in front of everyone, especially if everyone isn’t on your side. He apologised, that’s a rarity for Malfoy, and it looked like he meant it. I mean, I know people have been pretty nasty to him lately, and I haven’t cared – but now I feel a little guilty for not saying anything.” She stated.

Ginny nodded. “That’s true. People have been pretty nasty to him – someone even broke his arm by hexing him down the stairs!” she gave a pointed look at Harry. “I admit, he’s pretty shit with his words – but he never actually wanted Voldemort to win.” She stated, recalling Harry and Malfoy’s conversation at the hospital wing.

Harry stared at her. “That’s true.”

“How do you know that?” Hermione asked.

Harry stilled. Oh crap, he had forgotten to tell her and Ron that he had gone to see him in term one. He explained what had happened to Ron and Hermione, Ginny listening in since she had stood outside the entire time.

“Now it all makes sense!” Hermione gasped.

“What does?” Ron asked.

“I read in a muggle psychology book that after experiences of trauma, the individual can become angry, resentful or the complete opposite. Sad and withdrawn, unwilling to care about anything anymore. Malfoy has been pretty depressed for the past two terms, right? I always assumed it was because of self-pity but knowing that Malfoy had never actually been a devout Death Eater, it makes his trauma much worse than we think.” Hermione explained.

“How so?”

She thought for a minute. “Well, we know how scary Voldemort was right? But remember, the Malfoy Manor was where Death Eaters, killers and Voldemort held their meetings. That’s Malfoy’s home. If Malfoy had been a devout Death Eater like his father, it wouldn’t have affected him as much because he believed in the cause he was behind. But he didn’t. He must have been terrified, not only for himself but for his mother too.”

“His mum saved my life, I doubt _she_ was on Voldemort’s side!” Harry interjected helpfully.

Hermione nodded towards him, appreciating the support. “Exactly! Not to mention – he was brought up in that household, who knows what kind of things he was exposed to? At least he has the right mind to understand what was done was wrong. That takes a lot of courage.”

“Do you think he’s alright?” Ron asked, giving a small frown of minor concern.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure- oh!” she stopped mid-sentence and raised her head to look at something. Harry turned his head too to see Luna stand up from her seat and walk out of the hall rather abruptly. Why was she in such a rush?

“Where are you going Luna?” Ginny called. Luckily where they were seated wasn’t too far from the entrance that Ginny could shout without disrupting too many people.

Luna looked at her. “I’m just going to see if Draco is alright.” She told them before disappearing.

Ginny turned back to her friends, mouth open in surprise. “Since when was Malfoy, _Draco_ to her?” she gaped.

Harry stared at the doors before suddenly standing up. “Let’s go too.” He said, half-expecting his friends to tell him to go alone.

Surprisingly Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood up and followed him out of the dining hall, earning a few looks of confusion from their peers. They exited the hall and moved down the corridor where Luna had gone, listening for the echo of footsteps.

They walked briskly and came to the courtyard. 

“Over there!” Ron stated loudly, pointing towards the water fountain.

Luna sat, with her right arm around a blond boy whose head rested on her shoulder. It wasn’t a familiar hug, a little awkward so it was obvious they hadn’t hugged much before. It was unfamiliar contact, friendly and comforting, but it was obvious they weren’t best friends. The four of them walked up to the two and Malfoy immediately sat up and shrugged Luna’s hands off him. 

Instantly, Malfoy began to speak. “Granger! I’m sorry for calling you a mudblood when we were younger. Weasley, I’m sorry for being a git and making fun of you. Weaselette, sorry for being a dick to your boyfriend. Harry… You know…” he said quickly, words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Ginny smirked. “He’s not my boyfriend.” She laughed.

“Is that the only thing you picked up from that?” Ron scoffed quietly, earning a playful nudge from Hermione.

Malfoy stared at the ground and Harry stared at his fluffy hair. Well, it wasn’t exactly fluffy – it was more, soft looking. Fine, white-blond strands poking around and un-greased back so that his bangs could fall across his face. It was almost cute. Without realising, Harry reached out and touched Malfoy’s hair, running his fingers through the blond strands. He felt the Slytherin tense and he extracted his fingers quickly. Even though he was no longer touching his hair, he felt like he still was, and Draco’s hair was as soft as it looked.

“What the hell Potter?” Malfoy frowned. He didn’t angry, just confused and a little bit appalled.

“Sorry.” Harry said quickly, feeling a little bit awkward. Hermione and Ginny exchanged an odd look and Ron pretended nothing had happened. Only Luna and Malfoy seemed to be confused. “I don’t know why I did that.” Harry told them, giving Malfoy a taut smile.

Instead of getting angry, like Harry expected, Malfoy shrugged and brushed his hands through his hair. “If it were a few years ago I would’ve hexed you into next week. But I don’t really care about my hair anymore, so touch it all you want.”

Harry’s head cocked. “Really?” he queered.

“No!” Malfoy gasped, leaning back but with a smile on his face. “I wasn’t actually – I didn’t – No. Um… Shut up Potter.” He fumbled with his words.

A moment passed until someone spoke. Surprisingly it was Ron. “Are you okay Malfoy?” he asked.

“Why do you care?” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

The four of them ignored his question and looked at him expectantly.

Malfoy paused for a minute before nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you-“

“DRACO! MALFOY! WHAT. THE. _HELL_?” someone shouted from behind them.

Harry turned around to see Parkinson and Zabini storming towards them in a hurry. They looked shaken up and frankly, quite angry. 

“Oh shit.” Malfoy muttered as his two closest friends huffed angrily towards them. The four Gryffindors stepped aside to watch the scene unfold, Harry quite amused and Hermione looking anxious.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were going to pull that stunt? You’re an idiot! I tried to follow, but everyone kept asking us questions! Guess what our answer was? We had no idea! Jesus Christ Draco!” Parkinson yelled, glancing momentarily at the four Gryffindors and single Ravenclaw who regarded her with amusement.

Malfoy glanced at Harry, who raised his eyebrows in response. “Um… Sorry?” he tried. It was rather surprising for Draco, Pansy hadn’t yelled at him like that in ages. It made him happy actually, that his friends were finally behaving like themselves.

Parkinson rolled her eyes and another awkward silence settled in amongst the group. It was like a stand-off, neither one moving and no one talking.

“All is okay now.” Hermione said quietly, unsure whether or not to leave.

The angry Slytherin girl turned to Hermione abruptly, still angry. “Okay? Everything is still _not_ okay! Do you know how many people have tried to bully Draco? How many people have cursed and hexed and jinxed and hurt Draco? After that apology, do you think people will stop? I doubt it! Sure, it may have stopped people from thinking he’s an arsehole, but that’s not going to stop the few people who still hate him! The reason why Draco never eats in the hall is because of those few twats who insist on making his life hell!” she shouted, pointing at Draco violently.

Hermione turned to look at Malfoy in concern. “Is this true? I’ve never seen anyone hex you before.”

Zabini rolled his eyes. “Are you daft? Everyone is cautious around the lot of you. Potter practically saved everyone, no one would dare act out in front of him or his best mates. People don’t want to cause you guys any more conflict, but they’re plenty eager to inflict it upon Draco.” He scoffed.

Malfoy looked at the ground and Harry stared at his feet. It was so awkward now. Oh boy… 

“What? Are you saying this is Harry’s fault?” Ron frowned.

Zabini rolled his eyes. “Oh for god’s sake you-“

“It’s no one’s fault. I brought this upon myself and I should suffer the consequences. It doesn’t matter. I’m just… I’m just gonna go.” Malfoy interjected, feeling anxious to get out of there.

The Slytherin stood up, shot Harry a small smile and walked off without another word. Luna stared off into space while Parkinson and Zabini chased after Malfoy. The three Gryffindors stood around for a moment. Well, that did not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing I've been in bed this whole day oml


	8. Cinnamon Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco found a hiding spot  
> Harry found a Draco  
> Draco cri  
> Cuddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao sorry for going MIA for a while - I had just gone back to school, completed three exams in the span of two days and my brain is completely frazzled.
> 
> FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

_**\- Skipping to term four -** _

 

After Draco’s apology in front of the entire school, people began to leave him alone. His presence wasn’t necessarily _welcomed_ but was tolerated. He was no longer the subject to cruel bullying or spontaneous pranks and his friends had begun to relax around him. He didn’t know why he did it – to be fair it was an impulsive action – and afterwards he didn’t really remember much.

All he knew was that he fell into a slump, not that anyone noticed, but he had been falling. Wallowing in a pit of self-loathing and hatred. He thought that if he could apologise to everyone, tell everyone he meant no harm, perhaps he would no longer despise himself. That if other people began to accept him, he could start to accept himself. It worked for a bit.

The entire school had had the holidays to think about things, and the result was civil acceptance. It was the start of term four and he hadn’t been hexed or jinxed once. That was an improvement.

It was his last term at Hogwarts, and everything was beginning to fall into place. He kind of wished it would’ve been better beforehand, but he reckoned it would be better than never. Despite the change in attitude with the rest of the school, Draco himself hadn’t felt much better. For a brief moment he had gotten better, beginning to pile his sadness and frustration into working out – but that didn’t last long. Soon, his energy decreased, and his appetite tumbled to a stop and he began to slump again. Everyone accepted him, why didn’t he feel better?

He still enjoyed solitude and had found himself a hideaway at the top of the astronomy tower. It was a little dusty, but that was good. It meant not many people came in there – so Draco made it his personal hideout.

Draco regretted not finding it sooner, especially when it was summer, and he relished in the thought of the cool breeze rolling in through the open window. It wasn’t stuffy at all, not if you opened the window, which Draco did until it got too cold to do so. Settling into the place was easy, it already had cushions and pillows in the corner and the blond cleaned them up before using them himself. It was peaceful, and although students mucked around down below, he was too high up for the sound to carry properly.

It wasn’t until Potter stumbled into his hideout did he begin to long for company. It was rather abrupt and shocking, having a Gryffindor burst into the room unannounced in a hurry.

“Whoa!” Draco shouted, tossing the book he was reading and snatching up his wand in alarm.

Potter glanced at him but shut the door behind him anyway. “Shh!” he hissed, placing his fingers to his mouth.

The two of them waited in silence, Draco faintly hearing Harry’s name being called from below. The Gryffindor stared at Draco, silently begging him not to say anything, so he didn’t.

Once the chatter and callings of his name had disappeared, Draco stood up properly and walked towards Potter. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly, just in case anyone had loitered behind.

Potter regarded him curiously for a minute before stepping away from the door to face the perplexed blond. “I was just walking past the tower, minding my own business, when a Ravenclaw girl tried to snog me!” Potter told him, glancing at the door warily as if he expected it to be kicked down.

Draco frowned. “Well, you are their idol – what do you expect? It’s just a kiss, the more you run the more they’ll want to.”

The Gryffindor smirked. “I don’t want to kiss any of them. Besides, I won’t risk being a love-potion victim. I’ve seen what happened to Ron when he was under the influence, and he went completely bonkers.” 

The blond gave a small chuckle. “So, you can battle Voldemort head on without any fear, but you run with your tail between your legs when a girl tries to kiss you. How very brave of you.” Draco stated, amused.  

Potter gave him a small grin. “I’ll leave. I’ll find a different hiding place, sorry to bother you,” he said, turning around to leave.

“No.”

The Gryffindor paused.

Draco inhaled sharply. “No – sorry, I mean… You can stay here. If you want.” He had no idea why he was offering to share _his_ hiding place with Potter, but some part of him wanted to keep talking to the messy-haired Gryffindor. It wasn’t just that, for some reason he found the emerald-eyed boy’s company comforting and he didn’t know why.

Turning back around again, Potter perched himself down next to Draco’s small den and stole a cushion, tucking it under his arms. The blond resumed his seat and sat down gingerly, unsure of what to say. 

Oddly enough, talking to Potter wasn’t nearly as hard as he had expected. Part of him rejoiced that he was able to hold a conversation with the Golden Boy without saying something stupid, but the other part of him berated him for it. He liked talking to the Gryffindor so much he felt almost betrayed, repulsed, almost like he was indulging in an illegal activity.

The Slytherin maintained a decent conversation with the messy-haired boy, whose eyes sparkled and crinkled at the side when he smiled, and whose teeth were so white it was almost blinding. Through the glasses, his eyes would stare at you intensely, regarding you with interest and genuine pleasure. It was so gentle, so warming, yet so… Surreal.

Potter was talking. Speaking about Quidditch and how he wished Draco would play again. The blond smiled, not particularly paying attention to the words. Rather, he focused on the deep-set voice of the Gryffindor and the rumble that sparked after every word. It was almost like a growl, dominant and alluring.

Draco glanced away. “Why don’t you hate me?” he asked abruptly.

The brown-haired boy stared at him, surprised by the blatant question. “Um,” he began before reaching up to tussle his hair. “Why would I?”

The Slytherin stared at him. He knew why Potter should hate him, but at the same time he didn’t know. It was confusing. He swallowed loudly, gave a haughty chuckle, and shrugged. “I don’t know, sorry, forget I asked.” He said quickly.

The Gryffindor stared at him. Waiting.

Draco glanced to the side and bit his lip. “I’m not a good person, Potter.” He stated, not really knowing why he was continuing the conversation.

“Yes you are.”

The blond turned to look at Harry, who gazed back at him sternly. The look in his eyes was fierce and Draco’s breath left him once his eyes locked in the presence of those emerald ones.

“You are a good person. You never wanted this. What you did doesn’t define you, what you feel now, does. You’re not a bad person, _Draco_.”

Draco inhaled sharply. Harry had just called him Draco. He didn’t know what to feel, but the way his name rolled off the gentle-eyed boy’s mouth, the blond was left a melting mess. It warmed him up, blossoming from his chest and sparking a ghost of a smile within him.

But at the same time, those words hurt. There was an honest, kind boy right in front of him, telling him that he was a good person and yet… He couldn’t believe it. It was wrong, it was fake, he wasn’t a good person. He was terrible, horrid, disgusting. He was a weakling and didn’t deserve love or kindness or honesty or anything. He wanted to push Potter away, tell him to fuck off, yell, scream, but all that came out was a bark of a sob.

Potter’s face became blurry and Draco closed his eyes and turned away. It was embarrassing. Why was he so goddamn emotional? He was like a freaking _girl._ He didn’t want Potter to see him like this, it was hard enough to be seen by Pansy or Blaise, but god not Harry.

He gave a nonsensical “sorry” and buried his hands in his face, desperate to hide his ugly crying. His shoulders gave a small shake, and slowly the tears were wetting his palms and smearing across his cheeks.

Within moments, an arm was being wrapped around his shoulder and his face was locked in the crook of a neck. He was being held awkwardly, his body leaning forwards into the other boy’s chest, hugged by two strong arms. It was abrupt, a little too rough for Draco’s liking, but it was welcoming and warm and all Draco wanted to do was cling onto the man who was clinging onto him.

The moment was blurry, confusing, and Draco didn’t fully understand what was happening, and not before long he began to relax in the comforting embrace. Potter smelt nice, a rough, musky scent with a hint of faint cinnamon. It was a large smell, a… dominant smell, and it made Draco pliant in the arms of the Gryffindor.

His breathing began to slow, he shuffled to the side so that he could lean his head against Harry’s chest. The emerald-eyed boy gave a hearty chuckle before adjusting himself so that they could both embrace each other comfortably. It was sensual, relaxed, and Draco felt like he had known Harry for years. Well, he had in a way, but now he felt… weirdly close.

“You’re a good person.” The Gryffindor repeated, his arm still slung casually around Draco’s shoulders.

They weren’t exactly _cuddling_ , more like… _bro-hugging_ , and Draco couldn’t help but will it to be more. The blond didn’t know what to say, instead he shifted his head around to acknowledge Potter’s words.

“You’re smart, interesting, handsome,” Harry began.

Draco snorted, “Damn right, I’m marvellous.”

“I’m serious.” Potter said sharply. “You think you suck and that you’re horrible, and nasty, and you don’t deserve love, but you do. Luna told me how you wouldn’t leave your room during the holidays.” He told the blond, who tensed.

“What?” he barked, slightly offended that Luna would tell Potter about his private life.

“She didn’t tell me what you guys talked about, don’t worry about that. All she said was how secluded you were and how you isolated yourself. It’s not healthy to be shut away like that.” Potter said simply.

Draco sat up and shoved the Gryffindor’s arm off him. “Are you seriously telling me what’s good for me? You’re not my mum, Potter!” he snapped angrily.

Harry stared back at him, surprised. “No! No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I just…” he paused for a moment.

“Just what, Potter?” The blond hissed.

“I just want to talk with you more, that’s all. Sorry – I’m not good with words – I just… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but you keep showing up and popping into my head and I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s bloody annoying and all I want to do is hang out with you even though we’re not even close. And I see Luna with you and… I dunno… Ugh.” Potter rambled, sighing in defeat as he trailed off, unsure of how to string a sentence properly.

Draco stared at the Gryffindor. _What. The. Heck_. Potter thought about him? Potter couldn’t stop thinking about him? Harry wanted to hang out with him? _Oh my god_.

“Are you shitting me?” The blond asked quietly, heart racing a million miles a minute.

Harry stared at him square in the eye. “I shit you not. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Seriously.”

“Totally serious?” Draco whispered, his heart fluttering.

“So serious, Sirius would be seriously impressed with how serious I’m seriously being.” Harry said seriously.

The blond cracked a smile and glanced down self-consciously. “Okay…” 

Draco didn’t know what to say. To be honest, he wasn’t expecting such an emotional declaration from the Gryffindor, but it wasn’t an unwelcome confession. He was slightly embarrassed, a little relieved, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around the neck of that sodding boy, who stared back at him worriedly.

“Oh my god, you moron!” Draco grinned wildly, flinging his arms around Potter, who inhaled sharply before relaxing and immediately hugging back as he exhaled slowly. 

His breath tickled the blond’s neck, but he didn’t mind. His mind was occupied with thoughts of a certain someone. He could feel the hard chest pressed up against his, the strong arms that held onto his back, and the soft hair that tickled his nose. He felt a little weak, soft, but that was okay. It was all okay.

They hugged like they were familiar, gripping onto each other’s robes tightly and inhaling one another’s scent. It was almost animal-like, a little desperate for the human contact Draco had been so deprived of. He needed more, he wanted more, he needed to feel something other than sadness and pain and now it was all coming true. Pure bliss, gentle waves of comfort and cool warmth that radiated from within him – he was accepted and loved and wanted and he rejoiced!

After a while, when the excitement had died down, the two boys resumed their spots next to each other, apart but still touching faintly, their arms pressed against each other and their knees bumping ever so slightly. They talked, spoke, and this time they steered clear of any rippling topics that could break their bubble of comfort. It was slightly tense, a little strained, but they knew each other’s boundaries now and they were determined to keep everything cool. Keep everything good. Make sure that everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chuck in a lot of Hannibal references in my stories :P 
> 
> *gasps in English* I SHOULD DO A HANNIBAL FANFIC


	9. Fairy Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry can't do Potions homework so Draco helps him  
> Harry spots something  
> They go to the great hall and Draco gets a present from Pansy  
> Fairy lights in the safety rooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High-key building up a friendship between everyone

Ever since their moment in Malfoy’s hiding space, the two boys had gotten closer, chattering on their way to class and even pairing up as potions partners every now and then. Ron wasn’t too happy about Malfoy’s sudden appearance in Harry’s life, but Hermione seemed welcoming enough. Ginny got by with curt nods and small smiles, and Luna often dropped by in the library to hang out.

Life hadn’t changed too much, it was just the company they were with. Once the school began to see the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivals begin to become friends, the bullying ceased completely.

Harry liked having Malfoy around, but the blond had lost his bite. He hadn’t noticed before, but Malfoy hardly ever spoke – to anyone else but him. Of course, he spoke to Blaise and Pansy – but it was always flavoured with courteous detachment. Every now and then, when everyone was out and about in the courtyard, Blaise and Pansy would join them in a civil conversation – mindful of everyone, but friendly and open. It was nice. Surprising, but nice.

Now, the Gryffindor was back in the library, struggling over his potions while Hermione, Ginny and Cho had a girl’s day. He had been paired with Ron in potions two days before and their homework was due on Monday. Which was tomorrow. And he had no idea what he was doing or how to go about completing it.

Frustrated, Harry scribbled nonsensical words onto his paper, willing them to make sense, but to no prevail.

“Alright Potter?” A voice asked. 

Harry knew who it was before he even turned around. He smiled up at the blond, “Hey Draco.” He greeted, motioning towards the empty chair on the other side of the table.

Draco sat down and placed his books on the table and Harry caught him sneaking a peek at his potions work. Self-conscious, Harry hid the sheet with his arms and stared at the curious Slytherin impassively. “What are you looking at?” he asked defensively.

The blond shrugged and opened his own books before burying his nose in his own work.

The Gryffindor tried to do the same, focusing on his potions questions but nothing he wrote made any sense. He hated short-answer questions, they were hard but simple at the same time – and based on the potions work they had done on Friday – which was two days ago. How the hell would he remember what colour the bloody mixture became after adding three dashes of a finely-crushed rabbit bone?

Heaving a sigh, he rested his head on the table, annoyed his lack of progress.

“Do you want help?” Draco asked, tapping the Gryffindor on the head with the tip of his quill.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, I’m just thinking. I’ve got it under control.” He muttered, wondering why he was lying when it was obvious, he did not have it under control.

The Slytherin gave a small huff of a chuckle and returned to his work.

They went on like that for a bit. Harry getting annoyed at himself, Draco offering to help, Harry declining. Repeat. It was rather comical, Harry refused to let go of his pride and Draco found amusement because it was so bloody obvious that the Gryffindor needed help. 

After another disgruntled grunt from Harry, the blond heaved a sigh and stood up. Harry stared up at the blond as he moved around to peek over his shoulder. “What?” He asked as Draco snatched the paper out of his hands and read his potions work.

“You’ve been stuck on the same question for 45 minutes, and the three questions that you have completed above are wrong.” The blond told him quietly. It wasn’t an arrogant statement, rather, it was an observational yet curious one. Draco gave the page back and leant in close.

“I’m fine! Really-“ Harry began, but Draco shushed him.

“You’re not fine, Potter. Honestly, you’ve been frustrated the entire time and you’re ruining my mood with your lack of understanding. Let me help you. It’ll benefit both of us.”

Perhaps it was for Harry’s benefit, but the way Draco said those words eased the embarrassment slightly. So, Harry gave a soft groan and let the blond explain the passage to him.

Harry always knew that Draco was smart, but he never expected the blond to be a good teacher. He expected small jibes and pokes at his uselessness in Potions, but the Slytherin remained impassive and patient, which Harry was grateful for. Although it was a fairly complicated concept, Draco was able to explain it to Harry in simple terms, skimming over each question and explaining in a way that Harry could understand. The blond wasn’t patronizing, he was rather well-equipped when dealing with idiots like Harry.

“Do you remember how many times we stirred the cauldron?” Draco asked, glancing at the Gryffindor. 

Harry thought for a moment. “Three?”

The blond grinned at him and nodded. “Yes! The professor told us that the mixture will turn a deeper shade every time we stir in an anti-clockwise motion. It started off with light purple, so just write that it turned a rich violet by the third stir.” 

The Gryffindor quickly wrote down what Draco had told him. Now that it had been explained clearly, Harry understood better. Despite being friends with Hermione, her methods of teaching Potions paled in comparison to Draco, which was oddly satisfying. Hermione wasn’t good at teaching, and that made Harry slightly smug.

Recalling how she had explained the same question, he chuckled at how complex she made it: “So, Harry, as per the textbook we have to stir it anti-clockwise in order to allow the ingredients to morph within each other – but if we mix too much they’ll coagulate – and if we mix too little, it’ll curdle. We must make sure we stir only three times, beginning at the tip and making a 360, thus resulting in the change in colour which will change shape throughout each time and by ensuring three stirs have been implemented. The shade must be constant amongst everyone else’s cauldrons – and if they vary, take an average and discuss which is the most possible outcome.” 

Harry’s brain hurt even remembering her words.

Draco began to explain the next question and Harry couldn’t help but notice the sheer closeness of the blond’s face by his. Their shoulders lightly touching and the faint pressure on Harry’s back, just below his neck of Draco’s hand, and the soft voice that whispered inches from his ear. It was so close, so familiar, so _intimate_.

“Stop looking at me like that, Potter.” Draco sniped at him playfully.

Harry glanced away, embarrassed at being caught, but he huffed a grin before writing down what Draco had said. He glanced to the left of his parchment, drawing his gaze over the pale hand that rested atop the table. Long, slender fingers with nicely manicured fingernails. Figures.

The two boys finally completed Harry’s homework and Draco resumed his seat across from Harry, who grinned happily at his completed sheet of work.

“Thank you, Draco.” Harry said.

The blond shrugged and continued working his own work.

Harry put away his prized potions homework and moved on to his Astronomy, which he found far easier than Potions.

The two worked in silence, allowing a comfortable blanket of frankness to wash over them. It was almost natural to them, and the two boys felt light in each other’s presence. Although their friendship was sceptical in the likes of others, the two shared a mutual respect, paired with an intimate understanding of one another. They had suffered together, and now they lived the aftermath together. In their own ways.

As Harry placed down his quill on the edge of the table and moved to retrieve a loose piece of parchment, accidentally knocking the quill off the table. He tried to snatch the feather before it fell, but it flittered to the ground before he could catch it. He bent down to pick it up but paused as a certain something caught his eye. 

Draco’s bag was on the floor beside his feet, resting against the leg of the table. Peeking out from one of the pouches was a small moving picture. A polaroid. A polaroid of Draco. _Oh_.

A small blush crept up Harry’s neck and he tried to settle his face as an unwanted grin crept up his features. Draco had kept the picture, he still had it. And he brought it around school with him. Harry shuddered as a warm feeling pooled in his stomach. It was very cute, and he wondered whether he should point it out to Draco – but he decided not to. Instead, he picked up his quill and returned to his work, dutifully restraining any hints of a smile.

It wasn’t until thirty minutes later when the two boys finally packed up and left the library, walking down the halls with completed homework and a satisfied grin on their face. Draco had finished his work before Harry had, but he secretly continued working on the same subject until the slow Gryffindor had finished. Harry didn’t notice.

The two boys made their way to the great hall, chatting quietly about whatever subject rose to interest. As they walked into the hall, a few heads turned to see who had entered before resuming their work. The girls were still out, and Ron or Neville couldn’t be seen. They glanced around the hall for a minute before spotting Blaise and Pansy, seated at the Slytherin table. Without hesitation, Harry moved towards the two Slytherins and Draco followed happily. 

“Hullo!” Pansy greeted them as they approached.

The two boys adopted seats opposite from Blaise and Pansy, setting their things down beside them casually. “Hi.” Harry nodded hello.

“What have you boys been up to?” she asked, grinning at Draco mischievously.

“Studying.” The blond responded bluntly, staring straight back at the cunning Slytherin.

“Hmm, okay.” She gave them a look before turning to the side and reaching into her bag. She shuffled and dug around for a moment before extracting a small, silver pendant and placing it gingerly on the table.

It shone, glistened in the faint rays of the sunlight that shone through the high-windows of the great hall, catching the eyes of a few strangers who sat nearby. Engraved patterns framed an emerald that stood proudly in the middle of the pendant, sparkling lightly. A small clap on the side poked meekly out from the corner and Pansy pressed her thumb into it. The locket sprung open to reveal an empty area for two photographs.

“Your little stunt didn’t just baffle everyone at Hogwarts Draco. My parents heard about it too.” She gave a pointed look at the blond, who pursed his lips nervously. “But that’s a good thing. Mum thought it was very brave of you and tried to convince dad that it wasn’t your fault. He’s still unsure, but mum told me to give this to you. She said that maybe when you’re married and settled, you can come over for dinner one day.” Pansy said, pushing the locket towards Draco.

The blond held the locket in his hands and smiled at Pansy. “Tell them thank you. For understanding, even a little.”

Draco looked slightly sad and Harry wanted nothing more than to cradle the poor boy in his arms, but he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead, he placed a gentle hand on the small of Draco’s back, showing his understanding and compassion.

Harry didn’t expect the blond to acknowledge his small gesture, but he gave the Gryffindor a small smile before fiddling around with the locket.

“You can put pictures in there if you want, or a ring, or something special like ashes. See the clear glass inside it? You can take it out and put things inside like the photo so if it gets wet it won’t ruin the picture.” Pansy told him.

Blaise piped up before Draco could respond. “Okay! Can we change the subject before this conversation turns deep and stuff?”

Draco sniffed a laugh and strung the locket around his head, tucking it into his robes so it wouldn’t clank against the table. “Yes, let’s do that. Thank you Pansy, it’s very sweet.”

The raven-haired girl gave a small shrug. “Hey, did you guys hear? One of the Ravenclaw girls placed fairy lights around the school in random areas and enchanted them! If you go to one side of the school, and someone else goes to the other – you can talk to the other person through Morse code!” she said excitedly.

Harry frowned. Do people even use Morse code anymore? Wasn’t it officially deemed an unofficial form of communication?

“No one uses Morse code anymore. And that’s a muggle thing.” Draco frowned.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean we wizards and witches can’t use it for fun.”

“Who would learn Morse code just to send stupid little messages across school?” Blaise frowned.

“I think it’s pretty smart. If the professors don’t find out, we can communicate amongst each other without them noticing.” Harry piped up.

Draco nodded at him and Pansy gave the two boys a sly grin. “Exactly, Potter!” she said.

“The Professors aren’t dumb. They’re notice the flashing lights.” Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Oh, don’t be such an idea-killer, Blaise. Muggle fairy lights can be set to flash in irregular patterns. We use fairy lights in Christmas too, don’t be daft.” Pansy sniped, giving Blaise a nudge with her elbow.

The four of them then proceeded to discuss the mechanics of muggle fairy lights, comparing them to the floating candles and flickering balls of lumos lights that wizards used. Pansy and Harry argued that muggle lights were far more practical, as well from a safety point of view – whereas Draco and Blaise claimed that magical lights were far more aesthetic, and although it had a fire risk – there were safety measures that could be taken to prevent a fire.

“I think we should put fairy lights into the safety rooms! It’d be a great way to lighten up the confined areas as well as have a method of communication! Each bulb of light has its own connection to different areas around the school!” Pansy suggested. 

The four muttered in agreement.

So caught up in their own conversation, they almost didn’t notice Luna and Cho join the mix. It was almost natural, the way Luna joined in the conversation with her quirky words, and Harry smiled at her as she slid in beside him. Cho sat next to Luna, perched on the outskirts of the conversation so Draco and he shuffled downwards.

It was a little awkward with Cho, and Harry wasn’t sure how to speak to her properly, but Draco managed to steer the conversation in a safe direction. There was a little tension within the group, but that subsided quickly as the six began chatting away like houses meant nothing, and part of Harry was proud.

Now on relatively good terms with the majority of everyone, Harry felt at ease, even with some of the other Slytherins. The year was almost up, seven more weeks until the end of the year, and he was determined to make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like killing someone. Should I kill Narcissa?


	10. The Loudest Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhhhhh boy... It's only just begun....

_**\- A few days after (Wednesday) -** _

Settled in the corner of the sofa, listening to everyone talk, Draco sat in a circle full of chattering Slytherins who shared their funniest moments. He, nor Pansy or Blaise, had ever been invited to one of the Slytherin’s late evening talks – and he was pleasantly surprised when he was invited that afternoon. After having a relatively dull day, Draco decided it would be a good idea, and he did not regret his decision. 

The Slytherin common room had been converted from a posh, business-like area to a homey, gently lit living room with the sofas pushed closer together. He didn’t say much, since it was his first time in the circle, but a few sixth-years tried to make him feel welcome by offering him a seat on the sofa beside them.

It was a little awkward since Blaise and Pansy were unable to make it, but he gradually began to relax. He glanced at the clock, it was 7:00pm, they had already been talking for around half an hour.

Draco wasn’t really paying attention to the group, he was actually deciphering the flashing fairy lights that was strung up around the common room. He glanced around and saw a fourth-year with his wand out, tapping against the lights in code. He was talking to someone.

_.-- .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- ..--.. [Where are you?]_

The blond smiled. After the discussion regarding communicating through Morse Code, Draco had gone ahead and learnt the form of communication solely for his self-comfort and benefit, and he smiled as the fourth year paused to think for a moment. It was an innocent game, an unusual form of communication, but it brought laughter to the students. He supposed that’s why none of the Professors had commented on it yet.

Well, it was supposed to be a secret from the Professors and teachers, but no one was being particularly secretive about it so Draco assumed they knew but didn’t care too much about it. It wasn’t hurting anyone.

He glanced at his watch, he had to go meet up with Harry soon, they were going to study together in the library. He wasn’t as excited as the previous times they had organized a study date, but he was still looking forward.

Suddenly the doors to the Slytherin common room opened rather abruptly, banging against the wall before wobbling back to place. Two girls stepped through and scanned the room dramatically before settling on Draco. His heart skipped a beat. What was going on? The two Slytherins walked up to him as he stood up from where he sat.

“Professor McGonagall wants to speak with you.” One of the stated simply before turning on her heel and moving aside with her friend.

Draco nodded and made his way out of the circle, careful not to step on anyone’s hands. He gave a small wave goodbye to the group and pulled on his jumper before moving towards the door.

Faintly, almost inaudibly, one of the girls who had burst in muttered, “why do _we_ have to be the messengers? We’re not his slave. I still don’t see why everyone likes him now,” and Draco tensed. Not everyone had forgiven him yet.

He made his way through the castle and up towards McGonagall’s office, passing the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He rapped on her door firmly, a bit of anxiety pooling in his chest. Something was off, he could feel it, but he didn’t know what.

The doors opened automatically, and Draco stepped into the office to find the Professor sitting at her desk looking rather grim. It wasn’t to be a happy conversation and it was blatantly obvious. The blond gulped and sat down in the chair opposite McGonagall with her desk in between them. The desk was exactly the same as it had been the last time Draco had sat in her office, the only difference was a small piece of parchment that rested atop it.

He glanced at the paper before turning his eyes to the solemn Professor. “What’s going on?” he asked, tossing aside his usual airs and graces as his anxiety levels shot through the roof. It was suddenly very hot, and the blond felt constricted. His heart ached and he didn’t know why, but the look on McGonagall’s face said it all.

“I’m not going to sugar-coat or hide anything from you.” The Professor paused, breathing in deeply before continuing. “I’m very sorry Draco, but your mother was killed yesterday after being attacked by three unidentified wizards.”

Home. Draco was suddenly catapulted back home, back to his past to where he and his mother rested together in the dark hours of the night as Voldemort ran their house. She held him in her arms, strong and comforting arms, rocking him gently as they both fell into a semi-deep sleep, desperate to escape the horrors that ruled their reality. She had always been there, by his side, and now she was gone. Not just away but _gone_. _Really gone_.

She had soothed him, calmed him down whenever he couldn’t breathe and when his world was fell apart. She had made him hot-cocoa whenever he woke up screaming from a splitting nightmare and stayed with him until he had calmed down. It was her guidance, her smarts and wisdom that allowed his life to be considered valuable in Voldemort’s eyes, and… now what? _Now what..??_

She may not have been the best mother in the eyes of strangers, but she did the best she could. She did what she thought was right for the situation and Draco loved her for that. He loved his mother, and he _hated_ his father. He hated what father forced their family into, but he was the only dad he had, and… How could he hate him? His father was the one who brought them into this mess, who put their lives at _risk_. Father was a monster, a cruel, heartless man who only cared about reputation and picking the right side. Well, he picked the wrong side and now the family had paid for their sins. But why did it have to be his mother?

Draco let out a shuddering breath as he came back to reality, only then realising that he had been staring at Professor McGonagall for a considerably inappropriate amount of time. He lowered his head, not particularly caring, and clenched his jaw mixed emotions of disbelief, despair and relentless fury that shook him to the bone. _Why?_

“I’m very sorry.” The Professor stated.

The blond scoffed angrily, _why? For fucks sake, why? Why did it have to be her? Why couldn’t father have died instead? Why couldn’t those spiteful bastards have picked the right person to kill? bloody fUCKERS, FUCKING FUCK-_

“Draco.” McGonagall said firmly, willing the Slytherin to come back to reality.

He looked up. Oddly enough the room was crystal clear, and instead of tears, a familiar feeling of heartache washed over him in violent pulses of sobbing disbelief. Tossed in a world of sudden clarity and awareness, Draco had never felt more vulnerable and he hated it. He hated his father. He hated his _name_. His father should’ve been the one to die.

The blond halted, pausing in his grief to think for a moment. Why did he think that? How could he say that? He wanted his own father to die. That wasn’t right, was it? It was wrong. You can’t wish a parent to be killed over the other, that’s horrible. What was wrong with him? Maybe he really was a horrible person? Perhaps he even fooled himself because he had never been a good person and it was evident in his thoughts. Harry didn’t know his thoughts, so how could he tell if Draco was a good person or not? He couldn’t. Harry didn’t know him. No one understands him despite them telling him that they do.

“I have to go.” Draco stated, standing abruptly to leave. He needed to get out of there, he was suffocating, he was trapped and he needed to leave.

“Draco-“ The Professor tried, but the blond was already gone.

He didn’t even know where he was going. Instead, he let his feet take him wherever; he didn’t trust his mind enough to make a rational decision. His mind was reeling, jerking in the fantasy that his mother might still be alive and that she was faking her death to get out of the spotlight, but he knew. He could feel it.

Jerking the doors to the stairwell roughly, something dislodged from his pocket and he glanced down. The piece of paper. The paper that was on Professor McGonagall’s desk. He had completely forgotten about it. He snatched it out and stared at it. The Professor must have levitated it into his pocket before he had left.

Feeling a little guilty for storming out of the room so ungraciously, he contemplated going back, but decided not to. His hands shook as he unfolded the paper and gingerly sat down on the bottom steps of the stairwell.

 

_Dearest Draco,_

_If you are reading this, I am dead. I entrust this letter to Professor McGonagall in hopes that she will pass it on when news of my death has come to light._

_I do not expect to live long, especially on the run, but I will try to live for you, Draco. Your father has been threatening half-bloods in Azkaban despite its hellish walls and I fear he has gone insane. Unfortunately for me, this has put my life at an even higher risk – even getting this letter to you has jeopardised my position. But you, my son, are worth it._

_I have been to Switzerland, France, Canada and Australia. Sadly, Voldemort’s influence expands to the entire world – so there is no safe place for me to retreat too. However, I have found a safe-house with a distant Aunt in Singapore and will attempt to hide there before it is safe to come back. If you are reading this letter, I have failed._

_As for your financial problems, do not worry. Ever since your father had been convicted, he is no longer deemed sound of mind and my position in the household was changed dramatically. The Malfoy Manor is yours and will always be yours unless you no longer wish to keep it. As you already know, we have five other properties around the world. Those are all yours. As well as properties, we give all our assets, including heirlooms, to you. For reference, that would be approx. 200,000 galleons, including your cash inheritance. If you have any further inquiries, please ask Professor McGonagall, I have given her a separate letter concerning your financial affairs._

_I do wish I could have sent letters to you or have at least some form of contact before dying, and I’m sorry. I love you dearly, Draco, and I’m sorry I haven’t been a better mother. I wish I could make you a hot cup of cocoa. I wish we could read by the fire on a winter’s night like we used to when you were younger. I wish I could reverse time and go back to when everything was much simpler. But we can’t. And if we can’t look back, we must look forward._

_Do not hate yourself, I know you probably will despite me telling you not too, but you are my son and I love you. I don’t want you to feel bad about any of this, none of this is your fault. I will always love you, and you are strong enough to get through this._

_You are my boy, and you always will be._

_I love you so much,_

_Mother_

It was eerily quiet, only a low hum sounding throughout the stairwell of faint, ambient noise. Draco folded the paper gently and placed it back into his pocket before standing up emotionlessly. He was numb and his mind was blank. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to feel. It was happening all too fast. It was too quiet, splittingly quiet and he felt empty. Something was missing and he heaved a soundless sob. His sudden absence of feeling was the loudest silence of all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this one big chapter, but I thought I'd make it a few separate ones, just updated on the same day~
> 
> You're probably wondering why I'm not describing as much of what Draco feels in this chapter. Mainly because he is in shock.
> 
> [You might be wondering why McGonagall calls Draco, 'Draco' instead of 'Mr Malfoy', and why Harry sometimes thinks of Draco as, 'Draco' instead of, 'Malfoy'.
> 
> You see, McGonagall knows of Draco's hatred for his father and his family and what his name is associated with - so she refrains from calling the blond, 'Malfoy' because of his insecurity and immense guilt he feels. She understands him and can see exactly what he is going through and this is just a small way she tries to ease the pain.
> 
> As for Harry; Harry likes Draco. Sure, he hated what Draco had done during their youths when they were rivals, but he never hated the blond himself. When Harry thinks and feels things for Draco, he sees 'Draco'. When Harry simply notices Draco, he sees 'Malfoy'. It's all about perspective. 
> 
> I don't blatantly explain why these characters do it because a, Harry's not even aware of it and b, we don't see from McGonagall's perspective so it doesn't effect Draco's plot-line. 
> 
> \- I just thought I'd explain because sometimes the way I write has hidden meanings - ]


	11. Hasty Callings

Harry sat in the library, fiddling with his pen as he tried in vain to focus on his work in front of him. Draco was late. The blond was never late to their study sessions, so this was very puzzling. Maybe he forgot? Perhaps he had been pulled aside and distracted by a couple of friends? But Malfoy never forgot, so he’d turn up eventually. Right?

Apparently not. The Gryffindor ended up waiting for forty more minutes until he decided to go looking for the missing blond. It wasn’t like Draco, not like he knew the Slytherin that well, but it was strange and abrupt, and Harry couldn’t help but feel mildly concerned.  

Walking into the courtyard, he spotted Ron and Hermione sitting by the fountain whispering to each other. He approached them, feeling slightly guilty for barging in on their private time, but he needed to know.

“Have you guys seen Draco?” he asked them.

Both Ron and Hermione look startled by Harry’s sudden presence and Harry felt a twinge of remorse. Oops.

“No. We’ve been here this whole time, weren’t you supposed to be studying with him?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, but he never showed up.” Harry stated, glancing around.

Ron frowned. “Maybe go find Parkinson and Zabini, they probably side-tracked him or something. I think I saw them hanging around the Transfiguration classrooms.”

“Yeah, I’ll go do that. Thanks.” Harry said quickly, turning around to find Pansy and Blaise. They ought to be with Draco, or at least know where the blond is. It was becoming even more puzzling the harder Harry thought about it.

Walking briskly towards the classrooms, Harry wondered whether he was being a little overdramatic and contemplated just going back to the library. Draco was fine, wasn’t he? No. His gut told him otherwise and anxious nerves tugged at his gut as he approached the Transfiguration classrooms. He wasn’t going to find Draco there. He knew it.

He stepped into the classroom and scanned the room. There were a few Ravenclaws in the corner of the room talking amongst themselves and Blaise and Pansy were on the opposite working on whatever they were working on. He didn’t care. The two Slytherins, startled by Harry’s sudden appearance, gave the Gryffindor a small smile as he walked over to them.

“Potter.” Blaise greeted.

“Hi. Have you guys seen Draco?” Harry asked as he stopped in front of them.

Pansy frowned. “He was supposed to be with you.” She said.

“Yeah, well, he didn’t show up and I don’t know where he is.” Harry said rather quickly. Something was wrong and he was becoming more agitated by the minute.

Noticing Harry’s nervous shakes and heavy breathing, Pansy gave him a warm smile. “I’m sure he’s okay, maybe he’s still in the Slytherin common room? He might’ve forgotten, he was hanging out with a couple of Slytherins while Blaise and I finished our project.” She explained, “the password is  _Light_ if you want to go check.”

Harry nodded and left, leaving the two Slytherins to continue their project as he hurried down to the dungeons. Perhaps Draco really was there, and Harry was fussing over nothing? Maybe Draco was just being a dramatic bitch and had just up and left? What if Draco was doing something important and had simply forgotten? No. Something was off.

Knocking rapidly on the Slytherin common room door, he waited outside. He knew the password, but he felt obliged to ask before entering just in case Draco really was there. He didn’t want to be seen storming into the Slytherin house looking for the blond. It would be embarrassing, to both him and Draco.

“Potter?” Someone opened the door and Harry strained a smile.

“Is Draco in?” he asked. 

The kid shook his head. “No. He hasn’t been in since he left to go see Professor McGonagall. Is everything alright?” he asked, staring the Gryffindor up and down.

The Professor? Of course! Spinning on his heel, Harry gave a wave of thanks and hurried up the stairs and towards the professor’s office. He knew there was a good reason Malfoy wasn’t there, but why did his heart sink?

If Draco had been called to McGonagall’s office so suddenly, it must’ve been important. The Professor wouldn’t let him get hurt, would she? She understood the blond well enough, right? She is the kind who understood people and wouldn’t hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary. But Harry couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

Banging loudly on the door to her office, the doors swung open and Harry stepped back. Professor McGonagall was on the telephone, talking to someone quickly, urgently, and Harry’s heart sunk to his stomach. Draco wasn’t in the room.

McGonagall beckoned Harry inside and he stepped in. The Professor continued talking on the phone, slightly ruffled and agitated. Harry stood there for about three seconds before the teacher slammed the phone down onto the receiver and made to leave the office. “Potter! We need to find Draco!” she ordered, “NOW!” The Professor barked, walking straight out of the office.

Harry turned and followed the Professor, almost jogging to keep up. “What’s going on? Where is he? What’s happened?” Harry hissed quickly as his heart rate began to pick up from nerves, anxiety and from the sheer pace of their walking.

“I shouldn’t have let him leave!” The Professor muttered to herself before turning to Harry sharply. “His mother, Narcissa Malfoy? She was killed yesterday and when I told him he stormed out of my office. He was angry, confused and hurt, and I didn’t want to escalate the situation by getting him even more riled up, so I let him go. To ensure his safety, I asked one of your friends, Ginny, to give me access to the Marauders Map and he is no longer on the school grounds. If he leaves, then his life is at risk!” The Professor spoke faster than the road runner before turning on her heel and stomping down the corridor.

That’s when Harry freaked.

A surge of adrenaline coursed throughout his veins and he ran, nowhere in particular, but his feet carried him upwards and upwards. People wooshed past him and he didn’t care, something was wrong. He turned the corner sharply and almost collided with other students but continued onwards, muttering a half-distracted ‘sorry’.

Passing him was strings of lights, its flashing colours blurring as he passed, and he stilled. Wait. Feeling around for a connection point, Harry pressed his wand to the light and focused on the task at hand, linking each light with almost every other light around the school, kicking anyone off the current server in a hastily fashion. He pressed in a code and set it to repeat.

.-- .... . .-. . / .-. / ..- / -.. .-. .- -.-. --- ..--.. [ _where r u draco?]_

 


	12. Whisper My Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is basically fluff and cuddling
> 
> ~ Btw I've been trying to write this the whole day, writing a line like every few hours or so I just couldn't keep my mind on it so it might be a little abrupt I'm sorry.
> 
> EDIT: I'VE EDITED THIS CHAPTER DRASTICALLY, YOU MIGHT WANT TO RE-READ IT! - THERE IS SIGNIFICANTLY A LOT LESS FLUFF TBH

Draco sat in soft darkness, perched in the corner of a small room behind a pedestal that held a portkey. It was dark and cold, and the fairy lights glowed above him. They weren’t flashing, only buzzing with magical electricity that cast long shadows across the concrete floor. It was cold, just like his heart.

Sitting underneath the warm glow of the golden lights, he rocked back and forth, back and forth in a steady rhythm, hoping that it was all a dream. She was his support, his only anchor to reality. Sure, she was his mother and mother’s die – but why did it have to be now? Why did she have to go so early? She said she’d come back for him. She said she’d be there when he left school. She said-

A sob, a muffled cry. His shoulders shook by the sheer force of his wail and he heaved a sobbing howl. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he battered them away, wiping furiously at his flushed face.

She had tried her best to keep him from becoming like his father and yet, he had refused to listen. He had done horrible things, betrayed his friends and had chosen the wrong side. But even so, she had always been there for him when he needed her. She had listened to him, talked to him, gave him advice and protected him. She was a mother. His mother. And he had caused her death.

Why couldn’t he have been braver? Why couldn’t he have run away with her like she had begged him to so many times before? Why had he refused her when she promised that they could escape? If he had simply left with his mother, they would have been fine – she wouldn’t have gotten hurt, wouldn’t have gotten _killed_.

Tugging his legs close to his chest, he wrapped his arms around his calves, hugging himself. He wanted to be alone, but he also wanted to be loved. So selfish, so demanding. Had he always been this conceited? He hated it, he hated everything.

Every time he manages to get back up on his feet, something pushes him back down. And what’s worse, is that it’s always his fault. His stupid, selfish, annoying ass that manages to get himself in the wrong situation because he’s a stubborn prick. An arsehole, a fucking useless bastard who would be better off dead.<

Suddenly, the soft, pulsating lights above Draco began to flash, blinking a message that he couldn’t help but subconsciously translate.

_Where r u Draco?_

He sucked in a breath. Potter. He had forgotten about their library date. Just another reason to add to the list of reasons why he was a horrible person. Selfish. He couldn’t face the Gryffindor, not like this, but locked away in a safety-room made him feel vulnerable. He needed to leave, to get out of there – but where would he go?

After contemplating whether or not to use the portkey and escape to Hogsmeade, Draco left the safety-room. The portkeys were disabled, but still fully functional and any form of unnecessary transportation out of the school grounds would alert the whole school for safety reasons. He didn’t wish to draw any more attention than he already seemed to be.

He stepped out and peeked around the corner. There was no one there. Rushing down the corridor he allowed himself to go wherever his body wanted him to go. He was upset, afraid of being caught in such a compromising emotional state and raced down the corridors while lights flashed the same message. _Where r u Draco? Where r u Draco? Where are you, Draco? Where are you? Draco…?_

Speeding down the hallways he jerked left then right then up the stairs and soon it all became a blur. Where was he? He was gone, he was nothing and he never could be anything but unwanted. People say they want him, say they need him, but they don’t. Friends? Sure, they’d mourn him for a few days, but he wasn’t significant. The only significance he created in his lifetime was pain and suffering and everyone he comes in contact with, suffers. His mother, Potter, Dumbledore, Snape, the entire goddamn Hogwarts population.

Yeah, Voldemort wasn’t his fault, but what did he do about it? Nothing. That’s exactly the problem. He should have fought, fled, done something other than side with the man who ruined his life. Just because he was afraid to say no, just because he was more into self-preservation than doing what was right and he hated his weakness. Why was he so weak? Why couldn’t he do anything?

Before he knew it, he was curled up in a ball by a window, staring down at the flashing lights that lined across the outskirts of the forbidden forest. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, but if Potter really wanted to find him, he would know where to look.

 

-

_**\- An hour later -** _

 

Swathed in soft blankets and prepped up against silk cushions, Draco rested underneath the flashing fairy lights as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, casting long shadows from the forest trees. The soft glow of the blinking lights continued the same message, which soothed Draco as his eyes began to fall heavy and his body relaxed further into the pile of pillows.

His face was tear stained, eyes red in the corners from rubbing so hard and Draco was exhausted. He just wanted to feel loved.

Before the Slytherin could doze off into an empty sleep, the doors to the Astronomy tower burst open, startling the poor blond into sudden alertness. He stared at the door, then at the man who stood, panting and exhausted but relieved at the sight of him. Harry.

“Harry-“ Draco began, but before he could continue, the Gryffindor had thrown himself on the ruffled Slytherin, arms wrapping tightly around the blond, who struggled momentarily before relaxing into the hug.   

“You!” Harry yelled in his ear, pulling the blond into an even tighter against his chest.

A face full of brown hair and an overpowering smell of, well… Harry, Draco sighed softly, melting into the warm embrace. Warmth bubbled within his chest and tingling pleasure shivered throughout his body, welcoming the soft touch of Harry. It was an awkward position, with Harry half kneeling over a sitting Draco, and they toppled over so that the blond fell against the pillows once again, but this time with the Gryffindor on top of him. 

“You scared me!” Potter told him roughly, his breath tickling the back of Draco’s neck as the Gryffindor rested his head against the pillow beneath the blond’s head.

Draco’s heart ached and suddenly it hurt and all the emotions he felt before came rushing back in a violent wave of agonising guilt and vulnerability. He smiled a grimace, his brows furrowing as his breath began to hitch in short bursts. 

Harry pulled away and Draco scrambled up to sit properly. “Sorry, sorry – um, I’m not. Ugh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” The blond stuttered, embarrassed and slightly furious with himself.

“Dude, what the hell happened to you?” The Gryffindor asked, brows furrowing in concern and slight annoyance.

What the hell happened to him? Seriously? 

Draco heaved an angry sigh, suddenly furious at his life. “I just- Ugh! I wish none of this happened! I wish father was killed instead of mother! I wish that I wasn’t a Malfoy! I wish Voldemort never _fucking_ lived!”

Green eyes stared back at him understandingly. “I get you, I really do.” He said.

Draco scoffed. “No, you fucking _don’t_ – you knew yourself, you knew what was right and what was wrong and you didn’t have to live under the same roof as that psychopathic murderer! You didn’t have to become a death eater because your parents forced you too! You didn’t have to pledge your loyalty to that genocidal fuck in order to live! You had friends! You were happy! Well, most of the time, but Voldemort haunted my house while I was in it!”

The blond stilled, flushed and hot after yelling. Harry stared at him, unsure of what to say and Draco cleared his throat loudly. “Whatever. This is stupid, why are you even here? What’s with those lights? It’s been fucking annoying, you’re such a stalker.” Draco didn’t know why he was saying that, and he wanted to stop, but the words just kept coming. “Am I that pitiful that you decided to adopt me because I’m so _bloody_ lonely? I’m not lonely, Potter, I don’t need you – I have Pansy and Blaise, so if you’re done, please go. I’m done humoring you and your heroic friends.”

Potter stared at him plainly, not showing a hint of anger or sadness or amusement or anything. He was blank.

This annoyed Draco. “Stop looking at me like that!” he shouted. _Why am I yelling?_

The Gryffindor kept staring, silent and still.

Draco scoffed, “FUCKING SAY SOMETHING!” The blond internally winced, _Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, please don’t say anything_

The green-eyed boy lowered his eyes in a hint of disappointment and Draco’s heart shattered. Why was he being such a dick?

“Are you angry with me, or are you angry with yourself?” Harry asked quietly, staring at the blond.

The blond rolled his eyes but paused for a moment. Why _was_ he angry? Why was he yelling at Potter? Was he angry? Was he upset? Was he just being a defensive twat? Perhaps this was his true nature, maybe he’s really an asshole who can’t control his own emotions? What the hell is wrong with him? Who is he angry with?

“I don’t know.” Draco said quietly. 

Harry didn’t say anything for a minute. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” the Gryffindor then asked.

Honestly, Draco didn’t know what he wanted so he shrugged.

Taking that as a yes, Harry moved closer to the blond cautiously and sat himself beside him. Draco stared back at those green eyes, who shone and glinted in the twinkling drabs of the last sun and he sighed. Potter was looking at him expectantly, so he obliged.

“I just…” Draco cringed internally, why was he talking to Potter like he needed therapy? There was nothing wrong with him. “Ugh, it doesn’t even matter.” He finished. 

Potter cocked his head. “Hermione said it helps to get things off your chest. We can talk if you want, or we don’t have to. I can just wait here until you do, or I can leave you alone if that’s what you want. Honestly, you’re sending some mixed-signals here and I don’t know what you want me to do.” The Gryffindor told him.

Mixed-signals? What the hell is he talking about? Draco groaned, partly wanting to talk because he was a talker, but the other part of him wanted to shut everyone out. He usually talked to Pansy, but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there at the front, rather, she and Blaise had hidden during the battle and was nowhere to be seen, so neither of them could relate. But Potter could. Would it be so bad to talk? Would it be so difficult? He wondered.

“I’m not pressuring you to talk, I know you like your space – but you really scared Professor McGonagall and me, and all our friends.” Harry told him, resting a hand on the blond’s leg gingerly.

Friends? “I don’t have friends.” Draco huffed.

Potter barked a laugh. “Are you serious?”

Frowning, Draco glared at the Gryffindor, who stared back at him in horror mixed with amusement. _What?_

Harry scoffed. “Blaise, Pansy, _Me_ , Luna, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Ch-“

Draco groaned, “Okay! Okay, I get it! I just, I’m not good with words okay?”

“Well, neither am I – but you don’t have to explain to me if you don’t feel comfortable, but do not fucking run out and disappear like that again! Where the hell were you? the map didn’t even pick you up!” Harry asked.

Draco frowned, “What do you mean?”

“The map that I showed you ages ago? The Marauders Map? The one that-“

“Yeah, yeah I know about the map. But I never left the school grounds.” Draco said, frowning in confusion.

Harry thought for a moment. “What do you mean? You’ve been here the entire time?” he asked. 

“No, I hid in a safety room for a while before coming up here.”

The two boys sat in an awkward silence for a minute before Harry gasped. “Oh!” he said, “The safety rooms might not have been added in the map yet. But it's still on the school campus? Are they warded? Hmm... I thought it would’ve picked it up by now though? It’s supposed to be super intuitive…” Harry muttered to himself.

The blond raised an eyebrow. What on earth was Potter talking about?

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you are safe. I thought you left the school! You know you can’t leave the school grounds without supervision or advanced security, because people are still trying to kill you.” Harry said, stating the obvious.

“Uh, yeah, I know that.” Draco scoffed.

Harry looked at him. “Well, don’t do it again.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I never did.”

“You scared me.”

The blond scoffed. “Yeah right.”

That’s when the Gryffindor let out a loud groan in annoyance. “Why are you like this?” Harry whined, tilting his head back in exasperation.

The blond stared at the Gryffindor in a mix of annoyance and confusion. “What?” he asked.

Harry let out a deep sigh. “You think that everyone hates you and that you’re terrible and that no one could ever possibly love you. Well, guess what? _I_ love you. Yeah, I _love_ you Draco whether you like it or not! I love you like a friend! That’s why I care, that’s why I worry! Are you so daft? Why would I hang out with you so much if I hated you? Come on! I thought you were smart!”

That’s when Draco’s brain went haywire. Wait what? What the _fuck? What the fuckedy fuck heckin- ding dong hong kong what- OH MY_

“ _GOD!_ ” Draco gasped. He said that last bit out loud. Oops.

The Gryffindor wasn’t looking at him, rather, he was grinning at the floor like a creep.

The blond let out a drawn-out whine that sounded like a dog that had been stabbed in the jugular with a linoleum knife. He then let out a shaky breath and composed himself. What was he supposed to say to that? _Seriously? What the hell am I supposed to say? That was like, a confession of love! Friend love, but love nonetheless! What the heck! What the fuck! What the heckedy fuck! Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…_

“Noice.” He said.

The Gryffindor stared at him and Draco died on the inside. _What the fuck man? ‘Noice’?? What?? Potter probably thinks I’m some insensitive prick! Ugh!_

The sun, by then, had faded over the trees and the two boys were left in a flickering darkness, illuminated by the fairy lights that continued to ask the same question. Unsure of what to do, Draco gave the Gryffindor a small smile.

“So…” Harry began.

“I don’t really want to talk. Not right now. I’ll talk to you about it eventually but I just…” Draco paused. “I just need some time, okay? Can you do that? Can you give me some time to think about things before I suddenly start confessing things to you?”

“Okay.”

The two boys stared at each other for a moment.

“Do you want me to go?” Harry asked.

Draco paused, then shook his head. He didn’t want him to go, but he didn’t want him to stay. It was so confusing, and Draco didn’t know what he wanted, much less how he felt at that very moment. He was angry, but also happy, but at the same time extremely energised while also feeling tired and weak. His mind was in shambles and his body reacted without his consent.

Reaching out, the blond rested a hand on Harry’s leg. “Don’t go,” he whispered. He wanted to tell Harry that he was sorry for yelling, that he was being an idiot. He wanted to tell Harry to leave him alone and that he was fine, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t fine and neither was Harry, but neither of them could get the words out.

It was frustrating and Draco didn’t understand what was happening to him, but he felt like he needed to talk, but at the same time he simply couldn’t get the words out. _Time_ , he thought, _maybe I need time_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus, I changed so much of this chapter I'm so sorry. Honestly, this chapter really bugged me because I began the first half of this chapter and then went out, then came back all tired and I couldn't be bothered to properly finish it so I made a dumb finalisation so I'm sorry if you enjoyed the other one better. I just felt like it was a but abrupt like BAM HUGGING AND SNUGGLING when they haven't even gotten super duper close yet.


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